What do you do when the person you usually pour your heart out to is the one person you can't talk to because it involves them?
I have 2 people I unreservedly trust in this world, that's it. Two people in the entire world that I honestly believe would never use anything I tell them against me. And I can't talk to either of them about what's bothering me; one because it involves them and the other because they most likely wouldn't respond well.
So once again I'm alone when I so desperately need to reach out to someone. I'm alone because years of betrayals have built up such thick barriers that I'm all but incapable of letting people in. I built a castle around my weaknesses and deeper emotions to protect myself. I just forgot to leave myself a way to leave once it was safe outside. Probably because I have so deeply believed for so long that it was never going to be safe.
Now I've found someone who makes me feel safe. And they're even more broken than I am and determined to "protect me" from the horrible person that years of abuse have made them believe they are. I know I'm never going to be what anyone is looking for, I came to terms with that when I almost married a man who was only with me because I was the bargain brand version of the person he really wanted to be with. I'm the human equivalent of ordering Pepsi and being asked "Is Coke okay?"; people will settle for me if they can't get what they really want.
I'm poor. I'm disabled. I can't have children of my own because I would have to stop taking the medicine that keeps me alive. I have, what amounts to, a pity job with no prospects of advancement. I'm a failed academic, I wasted 4 years and the money my family struggled to set aside for my education and have nothing to show for it. No one really wants someone like me, I'm nothing but a burden. My ex fiance broke off our engagement when he thought I was going to die because he didn't want to be saddled with my hospital bills after I died.
I should be fine with all of this. I should be used to it after so many years. I've been alone as long as I can remember really. There were no children in my neighborhood growing up so I turned to books to fill that void. Especially fantasy and fairytales. Worlds I could escape to and experience the things I knew I never would in the real world. Like travel, and people I could count on to have my back, and romance, and if not Happily Ever After at least Happy For Now (I'd settle for just Happy).
The world is full of wicked rulers, conniving business men, war, and hate, greed, and fear. My books prepared me for them. But there are no fairy godmothers or knights in shining armor, at least not for people like me. Cinderella stays in her ashes, Rapunzel never leaves her tower, Snow White's heart is delivered to the Evil Queen on a silver platter, Sleeping Beauty never wakes up, and people like me don't get happy endings.
Someday, I'll die alone and be forgotten. Which, ironically, is how the person I'll never be good enough for hopes their life will end.
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I had these weird recurring dreams I had in middle school that I mostly forgot but kept using as fuel for melodramatic daydreams where I was a secret agent slowly dying by poisoning or just me, a kid, dying slowly of brain cancer and it took me like most of a year to figure out that the reason all those angsty middle schooler daydream scenarios I was playing out in my head in the car or in bed at night had a strange edge of deja vu to them because they'd started out as barely remembered dreams. I think it clicked when I was sitting in an airport waiting to board a redeye flight to visit family. there's a certain feeling about sitting in an airport when it's dark out and you're tired. everything is a little bit off. it's a liminal space by definition but as a kid it has a strange melancholy to it that somehow I felt like I'd felt before, and it scared me. it wouldn't get out of my head. I didn't know it them but I was about to spend that entire trip, nearly two weeks, locked in that strange melancholy deja vu darkness. and the thing is that a part of me enjoyed it. was compelled by it. I was scared but it wasn't in a bad way. I called it bad dreams because I didn't have any other words to explain why it made me nervously excited to daydream my own death. it was a feeling of mystery, almost, and bittersweet. but the sweet in that word comes at the end. it was melancholy and I felt like I'd been there before and would die in that feeling. but I always wanted to know more about it. always wondered about the strange recurring dreams and imaginary worlds they sparked. there was always something fascinating about those to me. it always struck something in my emotions that nothing else really can.
and that's what listening to Circa Survive feels like to me
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Okay last OC post I've already indulged myself enough today with my many many OC essays. Anyways Maggie can't dream </3 Part of her weirdass soul is that like... the reconnection of both halves (It wasn't equal halves, about 2/3rds of her soul went into Margaret, the other third was the ghost-of-a-ghost left behind) didn't really... work... properly. That's the cause of her worsening issues, both portions of her soul are constantly freaking out (Not to mention that souls grow over time when alive, the piece that made up Margaret is bigger than it was when Maggie died). Part of that is in her ability to dream, or lack thereof. She's only able to dream in memories, typically getting either the memory of her murder (Horrifying, violent, and extremely traumatic), or random memories of Margaret's life (While not violent, this is still really horrifying to Maggie, because this essentially proves that Margaret was her own person, and therefore she feels like someone died to bring her back to life)
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If you test too late can you get a false negative for covid even if you recently had it? I was like 100% sure we had covid again a couple months ago but my brother and i both tested negative. But ever since then I've barely been able to stay awake during the day. I'm used to fatigue but actually struggling to stay awake is really unusual for me. And it's BAD, like i've almost fallen asleep standing at the register. I'm wondering if it's a post covid thing because it's really fucking weird
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Revan allowing himself the indulgence of picturing Bastila with their son one last time before he forces himself to forget. Erasing every memory of every touch, of every word spoken all over again because it’s the only way he can ensure the Emperors gaze never settles upon them
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