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chevrolangels · 4 years

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When My Time Comes

death!cas, 3.3k

Continuing my tradition of posting ~spooky~ fics for Halloween, here’s a little thing with Death!Cas. I know we’re all freaking out with spn ending and a possible looming end for our fave so I hope this is a nice little au reprieve. The title is from 'Work Song' by Hozier, bc I needed to use one of his lyrics for a title eventually.

Enjoy.

read on ao3

The first time Castiel met him, he was crying.

He beat out with his tiny fists, and his father dragged him away, but not before he managed to swipe at Castiel. His hand passed through him like mist, and Castiel felt a shock, like he had been plunged in icy water.

Castiel extended a hand, and he and Mary Winchester walked into the afterlife together.

“Your son is a feisty one,” he told her.

“Good,” Mary replied. “He'll have to be without his mama.”

◆

“I know what you are.”

A man—boy, really—his hands clenched. He stared at Castiel, anger staining his soul.

Castiel knew those eyes.

“You’re a reaper,” the man accused.

Castiel did not deny it.

He simply stood, withdrawing his hands from the body in the alley.

“That’s one word for what I am.”

The words dragged like rust in Castiel’s throat. It had been some time since he last spoke.

“I've been searching for you. For years.”

Castiel looked away, and said nothing.

The boy eyed him for several silent moments.

“Why can I see you?”

Castiel told him honestly.

“I don't know.”

Some of the tension bled from the boy’s shoulders.

“You got a name?” He asked gruffly.

Castiel nodded.

“My name is Castiel.”

The boy took an abortive step forward, his fingers outstretched. Castiel did not move.

He reached the outline of where Castiel’s shoulder should be, but touched nothing but air.

His hand dropped.

“I’m Dean,” he said finally. “Dean Winchester.”

“I know,” Castiel answered softly. “Hello, Dean.”

◇

“Why can't I touch you?” He asked, the next time they met.

“Would you like to?”

Dean thought for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Yes.”

Castiel stepped past Dean’s grandfather, lying sick in his bed. Castiel had never done it before, but he saw no reason why it wouldn’t be possible. He extended his arm and thought very hard.

He felt himself solidify, and Dean reached out tentatively, as if Castiel were poisonous. He touched the back of his hand.

His fingers were hot, searing flame, burning brighter than anything Castiel had ever known.

Until, that is, Dean punched him in the face.

“That was for my ma,” he said.

◆

“I do not cause death,” Castiel said, many months later. “I am merely the link between worlds.”

Dean lifted his head, shock crossing his pale face.

“You again.”

His voice was hoarse, weakened through many nights of grief. Tragedy had once again come to their small community, and Castiel could feel Dean’s soul still aching from it.

Castiel stepped forward, looking at the cold form lying before Dean, life now burnt out.

“You were not related to this man,” he said, almost a question.

“No,” Dean answered shortly.

“Ah.”

Castiel looked away. Even after all this time, the nuances of humanity still escaped him.

The silence between them stretched. Castiel furrowed his brow, searching for the appropriate words to use.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean said nothing, but his eyes widened, betraying his surprise.

“Dean.”

Another entered the room, long hair skimming over reddened eyes.

“They want us outside,” the newcomer said, thin, tall, even younger than Dean. “You know. To say a few words.”

His request was thick, choked. Castiel looked back from his face to Dean’s. Their pain was great, and shared.

“Yeah, be there soon, Sammy,” Dean answered in a low voice, never taking his eyes off Castiel.

The boy waited for a moment, eyes sliding towards the spot where Castiel stood, where to him was only empty space.

“You’re not still seeing ghosts, are you?” He asked, smiling wanly.

His soul flickered, strangely dim.

“Nah,” Dean answered quietly.

They did not speak after that, even after the boy left the room. Some time later, Dean left too, with a quick nod toward Castiel, so brief he might have missed it.

Castiel watched him go.

Robert Singer sighed, a wistful smile on his face.

“Well,” he said, turning to Castiel. “We’d better get goin’, huh?”

Castiel nodded.

“Yes,” he said softly. “Let’s.”

◇

Revolution came. Blood ran through the streets and voices cried out in the dawn, the sound of shouts and guns being fired.

Dean lay slumped against a building, bleeding in the dirt—a wound in his thigh that desperately needed a doctor. Castiel waited by the dying body of Dean’s compatriot, watching soldiers run past.

Dean saw him and his face went pale.

“Well, Castiel,” he murmured. “You comin’ to finish me off?”

He knew. He knew if Castiel was there, it was already too late.

He passed out soon after from the blood loss. Dean was not to die yet, but soon. Thirty minutes maybe, a stray bullet to the head. He would feel nothing.

Castiel thought for a moment. Then he did something he was not allowed to do.

He picked up the dead comrade’s helmet and slipped it over Dean’s head, brushing the hair back from his glassy green eyes. Then Castiel gently laid him back against the building.

“Not yet, Dean Winchester,” he whispered.

◆

Castiel was not sure why he did it. But nothing happened. No fire, no brimstone, no splitting of the fabric of time. Whatever cosmic consequences he had incurred lay quiet.

In the hospital, many died. Castiel checked on him frequently. By the seventh death, he was awake.

"Castiel," he whispered. “Cas.”

The nurse hushed him and quickly turned up his medicine. Dean slipped back under—but not before he grabbed Castiel’s hand.

In sleep, he burns cooler, the swirling ocean during a storm.

◇

Dean sat there, sunken eyes, in a wheelchair.

War brings out the demons inside.

"Y'know, I'm startin' to think you're following me."

Castiel frowned.

"You do not know this man. I believe you are the one following me."

"Yeah, well." Dean turned his head away, scratching at a cheek covered in rough stubble. "I had to thank you, didn't I?"

Castiel hesitated.

"I did nothing."

"Sure."

Dean picked at the edge of his bandage. A couple weeks and he'd be able to walk again.

"All I'm saying is, it's pretty nice I got the angel of death as my friend."

Castiel let out a small derisive sound.

"I am not an angel."

"Then what are you?"

Castiel thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure."

Then, something in his words registered. Castiel looked at him curiously.

"Friend?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "Friend."

◆

Dean was not there when Castiel took his father. They hadn't spoken in years.

“So that’s it,” John said flatly.

Castiel nodded.

“Yes.”

John was silent for a long moment.

“Guess there’s no talking my way outta this one,” he muttered. “No more deals to make.”

Castiel slowly shook his head.

John looked back at his own body, tears welling in his eyes.

“Miss my boys,” he mumbled. “I shoulda...shoulda done more. Shoulda done right by them.”

He sighed, staring blankly at his hands.

“Guess it’s too late now.”

Castiel spoke softly.

“Your son is a fine man.”

“Yeah?” John turned, raising an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

Castiel avoided his eyes, holding out a hand.

"Come," he said. "Mary is waiting."

◇

"How come I see you so much?”

"Death is everywhere.”

"Then how come your name isn't...y'know. Death?”

"There are many old names for things. Everything changes with time."

Silence sat between them, comfortable yet steady.

"Is there a god?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Dunno. Figured if there was, they'd be your boss."

"If there is, I've never met them.”

“Huh. Told Sammy as much. He still thinks you don’t exist, by the way.”

“People find it hard to believe things they cannot see.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s something I have wondered, many times, Yet it remains mysterious, even to me."

Castiel looked down at his hands, the means of his lonely burden.

"I am merely the ferryman,” he murmured.

Dean nudged his shoulder.

"So the Greeks were right then?"

"What?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Never mind."

◆

When his next-door neighbor died on his kitchen floor, Castiel visited Dean.

He was crying.

“Dean.”

He looked up slowly, eyes unfocused.

“My dad’s dead,” he mumbled. Castiel nodded.

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Castiel shrugged slowly.

“I hadn't talked to him,” Dean said, a confession. “Not in years.”

“He mentioned you.”

Dean dropped his head back in his hands, shoulders shaking. Rather than comfort, Castiel’s words seemed to have the opposite effect.

Castiel stood still for several long moments.

Then he knelt, reached out, and touched his cheek.

Tears clung to Dean’s lashes. He looked up at Castiel, shattered, laid bare, his rough exterior finally split open.

Dean leaned forward, lips parting.

This soft, broken man was the edge of a knife, a precipice for which there could be no coming back.

Castiel brushed a thumb over the freckles dusting his skin—wheat and honey stars in a milky sky.

And he kissed him.

◇

Dean still burns cool in his sleep. But they've evened out, and now, he feels like warm summer rain in Castiel’s arms. He has stopped shivering when Castiel holds him.

“What do I look like?” Castiel whispers one night.

They do not have much time left. Castiel has been reckless, pushing the limits further and further each time he stays. He cannot begin to imagine what danger might come from his disobedience.

“You don't know?”

Dean smiles, and starts to trace the lines of his face.

“You look human. Sorta.”

His fingers dance down Castiel’s jaw, sweeping across his chin.

“But...I look at you, and know you're not...y’know?” He laughs softly. “I can just tell. You're made of something else.”

Dean’s hands skim across Castiel’s bare throat.

“When you’re wearing clothes,” he continues, a hint of mischief in his tone. “It’s always the same ugly-ass coat.”

Castiel makes a small indignant sound.

“It is not ugly.”

“Just saying.”

Dean grins, loose and easy, tangling his fingers in Castiel’s own.

“You could rock the whole badass look. Black cloak, scythe—the whole deal.”

“The scythe was quite cumbersome,” Castiel deadpans.

Dean looks at him for a moment until he realizes Castiel’s joking—and he laughs.

“And you got one hell of a sense of humor,” he murmurs, leaning in.

Castiel accepts the kiss, closing his eyes. Despite all he’s seen, all he’s suffered, Dean is still so full of love. The resilience of humans will never fail to astound Castiel, but Dean is something else.

He pulls back, smiling softly, then reaches up, tugging at Castiel’s hair.

“This is brown. Really dark brown, almost black. Way darker than mine.”

Dean looks at him, lowering his voice.

“Your eyes are blue, and they're the prettiest eyes I've ever seen.”

Castiel catches his hand, pressing a small kiss to his palm.

Dean’s smile fades as he watches Castiel, his chest rising and falling slowly. Castiel’s does not.

He does not breathe.

“When I gonna die, Cas?” Dean whispers.

Castiel goes still.

Dean searches his face.

“C’mon,” he says, a slight shake in his voice. “You gotta know.”

Castiel looks at him, and realizes he does not.

“I don't,” he says, shocking himself with the words.

Dean doesn't heed him, barreling on.

“Because when I die, I mean what if—”

He stops, fear in his eyes.

“What if I never see you again?” Dean whispers.

Castiel cradles Dean’s face in his hand, shaking his head, opening his mouth to whisper false words of comfort.

That's when he feels a tug at the edges of his being, and he’s being pulled halfway across the world, to the next death.

The last thing Castiel sees are Dean’s panicked green eyes, before everything turns to black.

◆

“SAM, NO—”

Dean runs, his scream rending the night air.

“No, no, Sammy—”

He reaches Sam just before he collapses, dropping with him in the wet dirt.

“Dean—” Sam chokes out, as the perpetrator runs away with his crime into the dark. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey, hey, no—it’s okay, alright?” Dean tries to pull him up, support him, even as Sam falls to his knees, slumping forward. “You’re fine—it’s fine, it’s not even that bad, it’s not—”

Dean cuts off. He lifts a shaky hand from the wet patch spreading over Sam’s back, seeing it come away covered in slick red.

“Shit,” he breathes lowly.

Sam says something, jagged and garbled in his throat. Dean shushes him, hands coming to his face.

“No, no, Sammy, you’re gonna be fine—we faced worse before, you just need to—”

Sam’s face is ashen white, his eyes starting to slip closed. Dean gasps back a choked breath.

“C’mon, Sammy,” he begs. “Come on.”

He looks around, to cry for help, for something, anything—

And he sees Castiel.

“No,” Dean breathes.

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel whispers.

“No,” Dean snarls again, gripping the back of his brother's jacket.

He doesn't have long. Samuel Winchester’s heart is pushing the blood out of him, slowly but surely. It won't take more than a few minutes.

Castiel takes a few steps forward, but Dean jerks back, dragging Sam backward, shielding him with his own body.

Dean meets Castiel’s eyes. He's broken.

“No, Cas,” he whispers. “Please, no.”

Castiel’s hands tremble.

“I have to.”

Sam breathes in raggedly.

“Just a few more years,” Dean whispers. “Please.”

“I can’t,” Castiel answers softly. “Death demands life.”

“One year, just one year, c’mon, at least give him something—”

Dean stops, choking back sobs. His breath spirals silently into the night air, the ground slick with rain and blood.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel murmurs.

He kneels beside them and places a hand on Sam’s forehead.

Dean watches, bone-white and utterly defeated.

Sam gasps.

“Dean,” he murmurs. “I...I see him.”

Dean looks down at him, shocked out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam whispers. “Your angel...Cas.”

Dean nods silently, tears dripping down thick and fast.

“He was real after all,” Sam mumbles, his head drooping onto Dean's chest.

Dean stares down at his brother’s pale face, hands clenched in the loose folds of his jacket.

Seconds, now.

Castiel closes his eyes. He has no heart, but he’s sure this is what it feels like when it breaks.

“Take me.”

Castiel looks up sharply.

Dean’s jaw is set, his eyes are firm.

“Take me instead,” he orders again.

Castiel stutters, fear constricting his throat.

“Dean, I—”

He stops, shaking his head.

“I can’t,” he whispers.

“Bullshit, you can’t,” Dean spits back. “You saved me.”

“I—”

His argument dies in his throat.

As Castiel beholds him, stares into Dean’s eyes—his fate is murky, the truth to Castiel lost in shadow.

Dean reaches out, catching the edge of Castiel’s sleeve.

"Please," he begs. "Please, Cas."

Castiel shudders, and looks back to Sam’s pale face.

“And you would leave him here alone?” He swallows thickly. “Without you.”

Dean is silent for a long moment. When Castiel finally musters the courage to look back at him, his normally carefree face is drawn tight, resignation heavy on his shoulders.

“I ain’t supposed to be here, Cas,” he whispers. “I felt it. Ever since…”

Castiel knows.

Ever since he ripped up the rules, leaving nothing.

“I was supposed to die,” Dean says quietly. “Maybe I should. “

Sam’s breathing slows, his face grows slack.

Dean tightens his grip, knuckles white.

“It’ll be hard for him at first,” he breathes, looking down at Sam. “For—for both of us. But I know he’ll understand.”

Castiel cannot think. Dean cannot fathom what he’s asking of him.

“Cas.”

Dean’s voice breaks on his name.

“Cas—please,” he whispers.

A soft touch on his cheek.

“We’ll see each other again,” Dean breathes, swallowing thickly. “R-right?”

Castiel folds his hand over Dean’s.

“Right,” he whispers, but he’s not sure if it's true.

He slowly places his other hand on Sam’s, and looks up into Dean’s eyes. He nods, just once.

Sam bolts upright, just as Dean slumps over, the light fading from his eyes.

Castiel sags, the transfer of energy leaving him weak. It's like watching a film in reverse—Sam rises dazedly, and when he understands what has occurred, he is the one now shaking his brother’s lifeless body, agony in his voice.

“Dean!” He calls, looking around wildly. “Castiel, you son of a bitch, don’t you dare—bring him back—”

He continues raging, cursing Castiel in one breath and begging for help in the next.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Dean whispers.

Sam stills, hiccuping.

“Be good, alright?” Dean continues softly. “You keep fighting. And take care of my wheels.”

Sam drops his head, stifling a choked laugh. Dean smiles, sad and bittersweet.

“Remember what Dad taught you, okay?” He murmurs. “And what I taught you.”

Behind them, a soft white light begins to glow, banishing the obscure dark. Sam does not notice, or see. He is too caught up in his grief, mourning over a now-empty shell.

The universe demanded the soul of a Winchester, and it got one. Yet a life traded for another cannot move on.

Castiel knows this.

Beside him, Dean’s hand finds his.

Castiel shivers. Not candle-warm, like the other souls he’s helped cross over. Dean’s hand is as cold as his own.

“Let's go, Cas,” Dean whispers. “I can't see this.”

They turn away, Castiel giving one last look to the brother they’re leaving behind.

And they walk forward into the light.

◆◇

Castiel’s work has always been demanding. Souls dying everywhere across the globe, some within the same second.

With two, the job is somewhat easier.

◇◆

She opens her eyes. She must’ve slipped under again, a brief respite from the pain.

She sits up and is surprised to find the motion does not hurt her. In fact, nothing hurts anymore. Instead, she feels only lightness.

“Well, you sure took your sweet time.”

She turns, startled to see a man standing at the foot of her bed.

He clicks his tongue, pulling back the edge of a leather glove to tap a shining watch on his wrist.

“We’re late enough as it is,” he says expectantly. “And I don’t got all day, seeing as my brother’ll kill me if I don’t get to visit him again.”

He thinks a moment, then chuckles, a wry smile playing around his lips.

“Well.” He smirks. “He would if he could.”

She blinks a few times, bewildered.

“Who are you?”

The man ignores her question, removing his gloves completely. He’s tall, impeccably dressed in a dark suit and black cloak.

“Tessa, right?”

He smiles, extending a hand.

On his fourth finger is a ring, white ivory in a square setting.

Tessa doesn’t move.

“I’m dead.”

The man winks.

“Bingo,” he answers. “Or ‘condolences’, as Cas would say.”

Before she can ask what that's supposed to mean, the man quickly checks his watch again, speaking brusquely.

“Okay, but seriously, come on.” He jerks his head, nodding over his shoulder. You’d think we’d have all the time in the world, but turns out we run on a very tight schedule.”

Tessa eyes him warily.

“And...where are we going?”

“Y’know.” The man gestures vaguely. “On. As they say.”

“On,” she repeats.

The man smirks.

“Yeah. Dust in the wind and all that.”

She frowns.

“What?”

“It’s a—” The man stops, waving an impatient hand. “You know what—never mind.”

He turns, beckoning once again. Seeing no other option, Tessa falls into step beside him.

Before them is a warm silver light, growing brighter by the second.

They reach the threshold of what seems to be a shimmering door, a gateway.

Tessa takes a deep breath. Despite everything, she is not afraid.

She looks back at her strange shepherd, gathering her courage.

“So.”

He glances up, raising an eybrow.

“You’re Death,” she says.

The man chuckles, once again pulling on his black gloves.

"Sure am," he answers, smiling. "Well—"

He shrugs.

"One of them, anyway.”

He turns, holding a hand out for her to shake.

“You can call me Dean.”

◆◇

#destiel #my writing #when my time comes #death!cas #mcd #happy halloween!!!!#🎃#too spoopy

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secritivebadhabits · 4 years

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mental health rant, TWs galore:

disclaimer - i have no plan to kill or harm myself or others

the amount to which i genuinely crave death is unhealthy. and i don’t mean it in the joking way, i want to fucking die, i’m just too much of a wuss with no energy to do it myself. my roommate called security on me the weekend before last bc i said i was gonna call my doctor cause i’ve been having suicidal thoughts and want to get help. she was too scared to fall asleep and wake up with me dead, i get it, but that whole fiasco took the last of me away. it left me feeling like an overdrawn credit card: there’s nothing there but still somehow more was taken. and since then i’ve been putting on this facade of being okay because what the actual fuck happens if she feels the need to do that again? i don’t think i could survive inpatient, or if i could i wouldnt after. im too scared to be sick around her and that sucks so bad because she is one of the two people i am closest to. and now according to our residence director, i have to be less negative, as she’s in need of a mental health recouperation period (and the suicidal one isn’t??) and everything is just bottling up inside of me. i’m still talking to my friends like before but it’s not the same not being able to say it out loud to someone physically in front of you. i’m trying so hard not to grow resentful towards her but it feels like what the school is doing is having me give her all the space to heal and grow while they tell me to just stop being suicidal. like i know this isn’t easy on her, i’ve gone through this with one of my closest friends, but i don’t think it’s right that i’m being treated this way. my self deprecating humor? not allowed. she gets to use it tho. me joking i wanna kms because of some minor inconvenience? not allowed. she still says it. it’s so fucking hard to not be ‘negative’ when you’re in one of the worst places you’ve ever been in your life. after our meeting with the residence director i was highkey dissociating and i was trying to pull myself back and it was like my soul or whatever was just flung from my body into outer space (it normally feels like i’m a balloon being held, attached but by a thread). i couldn’t speak or move or focus my eyesight. i physically could do these things, but it was as if there were no longer the connections that allowed the brain impulses to tell the muscles to work. it was terrifying and i don’t know how long it happened for but i genuinely thought i would die in my sleep because of how not there i felt. have i been able to tell her about this? no because it would be considered ‘too negative’ and ‘too much of a burden on her mental health’. imagine if this were to happen when she’s around. totally protecting her mental health, it’s not like she’ll have a panic attack if she ever sees it happen or anything seeing that she doesn’t know about it. can’t wait for her to eventually figure out my issues with food bc that’s inevitable. god, i was standing in the bathroom earlier and i was just staring at my hips with the most intense urges to cut but i just didn’t even have the energy to go get my blade. i’ve been on a steady decline since yesterday and i know im gonna spiral this weekend cause she’s going home and i’m going to be alone and that always just makes me worse.

#10/29/2020

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theroadfromustome · 5 years

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Mile 78

Yikes it has been over a month since I have updated here. In fact, a month and a half. Gotta get on that--esp. as reflection and processing would very likely benefit me on a regular basis. Stopping (at work again) to document the disquiet I currently feel bc I want to capture it in the moment.

Lots of things have happened; P has happened. He has been a focus of my waking hours; I have been the inhabitant of his embrace and the recipient of his letters when he has been overseas. He has met my son, and is completely charming him. He is beginning the process of sincere, long-term investment in the both of us. This of course stirs my heart in the best of ways, but also I think frightens me on some level. Things have shifted into high gear, and with that my attitude and anxiety have shifted as well.

In the space of time since last I wrote, P and I went on our first excursion together; to D.C. overnight to determine if we could travel together. I experienced the first of his migraines; and had one of my earliest attacks of the inadequacy cycle. I cried in his arms and explained all my fears and he held me and combated them as best he knew how. That time it was: This is a swanky hotel and this is the way he lives all the time. I have never stayed in hotel this nice and this is normal to him. He lives such a sophisticated life; he is a wealthy worldly genius. What does he want with me?

Then, he went to Turkey for a week for work, and wrote while he was gone of course. When he came back I met his parents for the first time; and the second attack of inadequacy hit. My mother was also present; in all of her family drama glory (I said recently that I felt my family was rather like the Bennetts, to which he chuckled and said that was not entirely inaccurate). After this encounter, which admittedly was not exactly a cozy one-on-one chat, his mother was noncommittal when asked about me. This time it was: His mother doesn’t like me. Maybe it’s because I come with so much bloody baggage. Like the fact that I’m still legally married or the fact that I’m going to be a divorcee or my mother’s drama which makes us a family of kooks (are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?!). Again, dear P rallied, dried my tears, and told me that he would choose me over his family if it came to it. And that his mom might just be nervous.

September rolled in and he asked to meet my son. We had the most charming afternoon/evening in which he was everything a woman hopes a man will be to her son and more. He devoted himself to son’s amusement, backed up my disciplinary judgements, and I got to experience the sublime pleasure of having a second adult invested in the care and welfare of my child. There was also the pleasure of being allies in the cause. As I say, son is as besotted as I am. Since, he has made a great many shows of sincere interest and vested concern for son’s well-being. And spoiled him some too, of course.

The next weekend was the sublime weekend when we got to go to NYC. On the train up I got to see him in work mode; which was mildly intimidating, I admit. Not that I didn’t know how brilliant and capable he is. I worked on applications at the same time, and he got to witness that involved process and the level of emotional investment and lack of confidence that entails. To him, surely I make mountains out of molehills; though he never said that, bless him. He was supportive but distracted by work of course. Upon arrival in NYC I felt less of a dolt/child/whathaveyou, and was better accustomed this time to the swankiness of the hotel. We met his cousins, one of whom is one of the few other people who he can be open with and can spend excesses of time with without feeling drained. They are both intelligent and capable and totally kickass; esp cousin A, who is astoundingly intelligent and gives absolutely no fucks. She’s also gorgeous. And P clearly feels a great affinity for her; rather I imagine as I am with certain friends of mine--we just buzz together. And I’m not gonna lie; there were flickers of jealousy--nothing severe, just a smidge of...”wouldn’t he prefer to keep that sort of company.” They can also talk math and computer stuff together, so that... Overall, I am not cosmopolitan and my intelligence is...? Also, I feel like I spend a lot of time talking about James Madison and slavery; gotta get some new material. Anywho, we also did other museums, saw Hamilton (which was indescribably good, and super romantic to share with him) ate fantastic food, met other friends, and generally just had a wonderful time. I think I made a good impression on all friends and family in question, generally pleasant if somewhat dim next to the cousins. I think it was a turning point in the relationship for him; and he definitely felt what he calls “romantic flutterings,” which are a big deal for him.

He left from NYC to go to Turkey for another week of work, and his first night back was all one could wish in the way of romantic reunion. In this wash of emotion, we crossed the love threshold, I told him I loved him, he said “I think I love you too,” because the way he processes is different. This is a BIG ASS deal of course, and part of me is panicking bc certainly this cannot be true, and if it is, how can I know I won’t screw it up? Etc. etc. And indeed may already be sabotaging things. This I want to explore. Then he came to dinner with the whole family! And was a champ about it, but of course this shook my confidence. So this major declaration has come out, and then three days later he’s off to Texas for a few days of work. While he was gone I felt out of sorts, and professionally had a week...well, that doesn’t exactly make you proud of yourself. While I was idling and not being a full adult (mind you, had a sick day with son), he was at day-long conferences for this job that he does well, which interests and challenges him, and in which he is greatly valued and demanded. I do envy that, but also was suddenly struck with a sick sense of worthlessness (you can hear it in the way I phrased that last even). What am I even doing? And look he is capable and adult and excelling and making shittons of money. He has everything under control, all his shit sorted out, the world at his command. And I...?

So that happened; fortunately he only had to experience this insecure moping through text, but I know it is a super unpleasant thing to behold; and it is that old cycle of wanting him to tell me it’s all going to be ok, that I am worthy. Which is not fair to him, nor healthy for me, and I really need to conquer it. Anywho, flash forward to last night, when I had dinner with his family; parents included, and cousin A. Also a family friend from childhood who is six years younger than I am, studying to be a copyeditor, was def. in with mom, and baked a perfect batch of snickerdoodles. (You see how I am wallowing in this? It really just gets to choking me. And I thought I’d made progress. But it is this familiar sick burning sensation in my chest.) The whole family; they’re so effing brilliant and accomplished--what the hell is he doing messing with me? He and cousin A did their genius banter, and I felt the same as I feel now--lump in the throat, tears in my eyes, sense of utter self-loathing; worthlessness. I see them together and I think, surely that’s what he wants in a partner? Someone who is as genius as he himself. How long until he sees me and sees a burdensome dolt? And the expiration date starts flashing again. And I’m trying to be stoic and tell myself that if this isn’t meant to be, it isn’t meant to be. But it yes, will still hurt. And that sick voice says ‘maybe you should back away now,’ and ‘if you end things how will that affect your son?’ I’m frightened I’ve made the wrong decision. What if I can never cope with the gulf between us in capability, intelligence, etc. Have I swapped one inequality for another? Is this strum und drang God trying to tell me this is unhealthy and I need to get out? But this man is so good, the best man I have ever known, surely I must pursue this. Surely this is worth working at. And God knows I don’t want to hurt him because I’ve made poor decisions; I’ve rushed in before I was healthy enough to cope.

And is this all because I put a name on it? Because I admitted that I love him? I’ve raised the stakes and now I’m terrified on some irrational level? He held me and let me cry, talked through things with me, tried to get me to explain what I was afraid of; told me he didn’t need his partner to be as smart as he was, that that’s not what he wants of me. He says “this wouldn’t work if you were dumb, I admit.” He says “I want to be with you because you are kind and take care of me and help me figure out things and we can have fun together.” He seems to think that the way I treat him, care for him, accept and work with him is singular, but certainly it is not. I don’t understand how there are not dozens of women lining up to love him because he is wonderful. So, so wonderful. And God help me, I do love him. I do want him to be happy. But I begin to worry that I am a burden to him. That I’m becoming someone who does drain him. At lows like this I am nothing but my weaknesses; and I sense how unhealthy this is. I don’t want to be plying these underhand tactics; I want to be strong enough to face this head on myself and end this feeling. But it is undeniably true that I am scared; that a voice in me keeps telling me that any second now my behavior is going to scare him off; that he’s going to get annoyed with me and that will be that. I cannot change who I am; I am working on this, truly. He says “you don’t bother me. You don’t have to change.” But some part of my mania can’t believe him. Some part of my mania thinks “yes, you do need to change. Noone wants someone like this. He loves the best strongest version of you. Not the one who whines and mewls about how much she sucks.”

Philosophically I know I need to be strong and kick this thing myself. And it is very familiar; this other woman who seems infinitely better equipped than I, spends time with a man I adore, I spiral into this self-hate fest and then make myself the kind of gargoyle that of course drives him away; makes him want to spend more time with the other woman. This is not because of any actions on his part. So disheartening to see how little progress I have made. And what is the answer? This is bigger than just this thing, clearly. Also a stumbling block to us, which is something I want to get past because I want this to be the good that it can be. But again; this all came after we crossed that major threshold. WHAT is at the root of this and how can I fix it? Nothing else changed. It’s not like he wasn’t brilliant before, not like our jobs or duties changed in any way--”I’m as fair as a I was erwhile.” Yet I act as though a timer has been started; a fuse that is going to end with him walking away. Not that these flutters of inadequacy have not come up before; see earlier in this post.

I don’t like this Sam I am. And I want to be done with it. I will not ruin this. However, I cannot be blind to warning signs. <--Stated for the record. Going to see DD this week to sort through some of this stuff; hopefully some answers. Hmmm...

Is this just the job search? Will I feel better when I get an “adult” job that is fulfilling/challenging to me? (Note: maybe I ought to teach afterall, if I’m going to be miserable and stressed anyway...) Is this because I’ve pushed too far too fast? Am I being honest with myself/him? Has this become unequal and how can I level the playing field? Questions. Questions. Questions.

Unrelated but notable: Was clumsy and told J about P inadvertently. At least now that’s done with but I do feel like a heel. And I hate what he is going through right now. Hope I’ve made the right decision in the end. But really I don’t think that was fully healthy for me. Of course it appears that I am good at making situations unhealthy... Hm....

#I have two fists #and the love of God #I can beat this thing and love this man as he deserves #and myself a little too

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babypadawan · 7 years

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ya’ll mind if I... write a long ass emotional post??

alright so my life has been pretty tumultuous for the past 2 years, since my mom first became sick with (we would later learn) neurosarcoidosis. she can’t work anymore, and when it first happened I was in college and almost done. but I had to leave in the middle of a semester after my mom had brain surgery to care for her and my little sister. I ended up going back but my degree track was too derailed to complete my diploma. they let me walk, since I only had two classes missing, which was very bittersweet because it was a typical movie spring graduation but I knew in my heart I wouldn’t be able to come back to complete it for a long time, possibly forever. anyway my mom was there which was what truly mattered to me at the time so that was nice.

but before that we didn’t know what was wrong with her and I was 2 hours away at school with no car and no way to get home hearing stories about how she fell down stairs and passed out for days and my little sister almost getting taken by CPS and me thinking, believing, my mom was going to die while I was away. when she finally got diagnosed and the right surgery it lightened the load a bit. but she’s depressed because she can’t work or do most of the things she used to do.

which mean things fall to me. I do everything. cook, clean, grocery shopping, taking my sister to dance class, and every little thing in between. my mom can’t walk without assistance, and barely leaves the house without me. she’s in pain a lot. the disease sits on her spine, her brain. it produces pain in strange ways that we’re used to now.

we were homeless, for 5 months. somewhere between the surgeries and rehab and graduation, the landlord allowed the house to go into foreclosure, and kept it from us until the bank that bought it posted eviction notices on our doors and windows. not like I couldve kept us afloat with my under minimum wage job. so away went our lives, to be stored in a uhaul storage container til we found a place. turns out, handicapped housing is hard to find in my city. family, a term I use loosely now, turned a blind eye to us. maybe they felt they had helped too much during the pre diagnosis days, when I was giving college it’s titular try. one did though, my mother’s grandmother (my mom and I each tried staying with friends, which lasted no more than a week. we are no longer speaking to those respective “friends”).

it was cramped, and dusty. other family members tried to tell my great gram to kick us out, to not jeopardize her place in public housing, the ones that acknowledged us, at least. we were put on a list for public housing back when we still had a roof over our heads. and 130 days without a home, we were finally given one, in the projects. which, okay, 4 walls and a roof is really amazing when youve been without, but I had grown up in the projects and was really liking the “project baby moves out, goes to college, makes something of herself” narrative I THOUGHT I was following. ha.

I was able to get a job that wasn’t bad for the most part. and we thought, finally, we’d be able to save. someone had tried helping us so I could get paid to be my mother’s caregiver and so my income wouldn’t be included in the rent. but apparently, in my state, you can’t be related to someone and be their caregiver with untouched income. which means now, on top of paying the bulk of the bills, I’ll have to come up with ~600 in rent every month. so much for saving money to get us out!!

but wait, if I’m a full time student, my income won’t be counted. okay, can’t go finish my credits bc it’s only 2 classes which isn’t even full time. so I looked at a list of government subsidized education programs and decided on web design since I’m on the internet so much. only, I was a poor student when I first graduated high school and was given loans, and the government only has so much conditional money to bestow on the poor. so I can’t get a pell grant, or loans. SO in order to be a full time student to not pay an impossible rent, I have to pay out of pocket. or find an under the table job, though that would mean more time away from home and I need to be there to help my mom with fucking everything.

so... barring me actually writing a book, and that book being popular enough that people buy it, and that whole chain of events, excepting a lottery win (which is just as likely tbh), I will be poor and struggling, forever. poverty is a vicious cycle. the government doesn’t allow you to have more than 2k in your bank account without going back to charge you more money. and I guess we could lie, but that time has long past and any lie to the government would prob result in little help but more harm.

my ex said something to me I’ll never forget. he said that I’ll always be poor, and I’d always have nothing. I lost a lot of friends when my mom got sick, I was sad and angry and anxious and was betrayed a couple of times so he was all I had. and hearing that broke something inside of me. or, shined a light on an already broken part of me. and maybe he was right, but what scares me the most is the thought that everyone else thinks the same way too.

this is the most I’ve talked about what happened to anyone, and that’s why. i opened up to my ex and showed him my cracks and he told me they were too much to bear. I’m afraid to tell anyone about my situation, because I’m afraid of that judgement. of being seen as a burden. I didn’t choose this life. I thought I was gonna graduate college and get my own apartment, or room with one of my friends, until I finally met The One. now I can barely have a conversation with people because I’m afraid we might touch on something that will reveal too much, or start a line of questioning that only leads to embarrassment for me.

and i guess I’m really sad. and angry. and anxious, still. but it’s evolved. I’m lonely, but I’m afraid to connect. I’m angry because I didn’t choose this life and because of it, my own has been thrown in the air. I can’t imagine having a kid now. how would I push its stroller and my mom’s wheelchair? and I’m anxious about money. will I have enough to pay car insurance? to pay the phone bill? rent? oh and I’ve been out of school for 6 months now so I have to pay back student loans from my incomplete degree.

I try to think about my life 5 years from now and all I see is me, living at home, single, struggling. what guy will want a girl with all this baggage? I very clearly need help, but I’m too proud and pissed off to ask for it. family turned their cheeks. friends were mean snakes. I’ve become so much stronger since this all began, and I’m fiercely independent. I do everything myself, with an attitude yes, but I’m moving the heavy shit and figuring out how to fix shit. because if I don’t do it, it’s not getting done. I resent the charity case that is my life. I always wanted to move out of my city, and carve out my own little place somewhere in this world. I saw myself as a different breed than most of the girls from my city. I didn’t want to settle down early, I wanted to explore. I never bothered to make roots because I never thought I’d stay long.

I just don’t know where to go from here. how to crawl out of this whole I was pushed into. how to make a life worth living despite everything making it feel like it’s not.

#damn this is like the emotional equivalent to taking a big shit #my life #if you were wondering what my deal has been for the past 2 years these are the cliff notes #if you make it to the end of this congrats you have won: secondhand depression

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saltwaterships · 7 years

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Characters: Klavier Gavin, Vera Misham

from Ace Attorney

I’ve never done one of these proper fic posts, but I’d really like to elaborate on this idea so I think I’ll give it a try.

I feel like Klavier’s characterization was a let-down in so many ways. After playing around with ideas from the Drew Misham case, I thought about Klavier. He seems really cool and composed in the game (mind you, its been a while since I played it) and it just didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to write a fic that expresses Klavier’s feelings properly, regarding the end of AJ.

I wrote this around Vera bc I love her, and love writing about her experience. This fic actually came about because I love thinking about new ways to tell her case so I felt it necessary to include her. Not sure how long this will be, or how many characters I will add in. I definitely fell in love with the idea of Vera and Klavier supporting each other and being able to talk to one another.

Hope you enjoy!

It was a difficult time in the life of prosecutor and rockstar, Klavier Gavin. He was in the process of questioning all of his relationships, He couldn't have known his brother would do something like this? His own bandmate? That's one story, but his brother- who he had known all his life, was another. He felt guilt and fear and he felt abandoned. But he himself could not say what he felt because he felt too much all at once. How could he forgive his brother? Was it his fault? Something he could have done? Could he have changed the future?

How would Klavier continue his life? He had money, which was a great start. Fans, fans, people were generally friendly to him, he did not lack an abundance of admiration or wealth. What he lacked was maybe love, maybe it was true friendship, and he had done well without it until this point. He felt like he was at an end, he really couldn't end his life but he could not imagine his life continuing. What was in store for him? He had made many accomplishments in his life, two of his biggest turned out to be the cause of much horror.

He almost didn't want to hear other people talk. Didn't want to talk to people, for the first time in his life. What his brother had done was awful and he was awful for sharing his name. He wanted people to forget who he was, if anyone would talk to him he would like them to treat him like someone who was not related to a murderer. But how could he ignore what his brother had done? Why should anyone? At the same exact time he believed people should treat him awful but they should also treat him like he was not significant at all. What a selfish prick.

It was about his feelings now. What didn't he feel? But what did he feel? He didn't want to know what he felt, he would never figure it out, anyways. He was distraught, he was angry, he was sad, but he didn't feel an ounce of it.

Did he get help? Yes. Did it take time? Yes. It took him long enough to reach a point of stability. How he felt now took him back to the days before therapy, before medication. He was a burden, selfish, jealous, he was (not his words) a monster. Deep down he knew he wasn't really all these things, he was a lovable human being, and he, himself was loving. He cared for people and he cared so much, he cared more than anyone else could ever know. And at this extent, he felt anger, sadness and jealousy in similar intensities. And now it was all coming back. The worst he had ever been.

Just as he thought his entire life was up in smoke, he remembered the victim. He was sorry for the him; Klavier knew that Drew Misham's life was not the easiest but felt a little comfort knowing the man truly cared for his daughter. Everything he did was to benefit her well-being. And how did her life turn out? Who would she become? If she survived, that is.

Klavier's attention shifted to the girl. Would it kill him to pay her a visit? No, not at all. Although, it could make him feel worse. But he wouldn't die. It would be fine. Or maybe it wouldn't, he just needed to go. Her life was in his hands now.

He arrived at her hospital room the next day. He realized he could have been too late but he was a sour piece of shit anyways. The nerve of him. A young woman's life was in danger and he – just forget it. He was here. He was beat to the punch by Phoenix, Apollo and Trucy. It wasn't a competition. In reality he knew he was not responsible for this girl. He knew it somewhere deep down. He could not find it at that moment. He did not know.

As he looked at her, his heart pounded. Memories came flooding back; emotions he tried so hard to keep away. Fuck it all. He wanted to leave. He wanted to leave. He was leaving. He was leaving. He was responsible for this. Why wasn't it him in this hospital bed? Why was he lying to himself. He had it good compared to her. He had it bad, but she had nothing. She had some things but she didn't have the things he had. She would have to start her life over. His was ending. Maybe he was responsible for this after all. Maybe he should stay.

So he sat himself down on a chair next to her bed. He put his head in his hands as if to keep his emotions at bay. He was kidding himself but he did it. He was actually a wreck but he soon learned that if he didn't look at the girl and pretended he wasn't in a hospital bed, he still felt like crap but he didn't feel guilty. What a faulty human being. Waste of space.

He must have been sitting there for hours. Well, five minutes. He finally looked at her again. She was awake. She was looking at him, possibly staring. She closed her eyes again. She must have hated him. He felt sick. He wanted to disappear.

“Look, I'm sorry.” He worried he sounded too aggressive. Maybe he was being too passive.

She nodded her head and said, “It's okay.”

He wanted to scream.

“I did awful things. My brother did awful things.” He knew he was calm this time.

She looked at him briefly. She looked away as her eyes teared up.

“I'm sorry.” He repeated.

“Mhmm.” All he could hear was her heavy breathing and her hidden tears.

What on Earth would he give to make her suffering go away? She didn't deserve this. But he didn't know what to do. She wasn't immediately impressed by who he was, nor was he being very charming at that moment. He was an ordinary, an ordinary Joe. To her.

“I didn't want to make you feel bad, Vera.” He said it. Her name. It was one of the most painful things he ever had to say. Not that he had to. “I feel bad.” He paused, he didn't want to repeat himself a million times. He came here to talk to her. But he felt disconnected from her. He didn't want to touch her shoulder or her hand, he didn't think she would like it if he got any closer. He wasn't exactly comfortable, with their distance they may as well have been on opposite sides of the room. “Vera, do you understand me?”

“Yes” She barely looked at him. Poor girl. “It's not your fault.” She sounded insincere from trying to be nice. Maybe she meant it.

But it worked for Klavier. He believed her.

“Vera, I think I know, I know it's not,” He placed his hand on her bed, “but this,” he cleared the tears in his eyes, “is painful for me. It's painful for you. I don't want you to feel this pain.” Klavier took his hand in hers, not sure if she would be comfortable with it. He should have asked.

“It was scary.” Vera looked him in the eye for a short moment, but it meant the world to him. He saw her pain, it made him want to heal her. Healing her would be the first step to healing himself. It sounded selfish but they both needed the same thing.

“You are a brave girl.” He let go of her hand. He wanted to cry but he didn't. He was coming back to his normal self. For a bit. “I want to know if you know what to do when you leave here.”

Vera looked thoughtful for a second, “what do you mean?”

“Where are you going to live?”

“Oh, I have a home.” He couldn't read her.

“Aren't you afraid?”

“He's gone, isn't he? .....I'm sure he is...” The amount of fear she showed was horrifying to Klavier. That was his brother, and although she was definitely right to be afraid, it hut him. He hoped to get over it.

“I promise that he is gone. There is nothing to be afraid of anymore.” He felt silly for pursuing. But what if he could really help this girl? He looked Vera in the eye, trying to get her to look back but it was fine either way. “Vera, are you afraid of me?”

She shook her head. She couldn't say, though. Did he scare her? She was always afraid these days and knew it wasn't only him. “No” Although, was he here to torture her?

“Vera...” He worried when he saw her expression, it was like she was lost, a bit like if the world around her wasn't real. But she was living through the unfortunate consequences. “I think you....you need a bit more time...” He brushed his fingers across his face to wipe away his tears as subtly as possible. It hurt him to see her that way, but he was sure now that he really wanted to help her. He was afraid of doing something out of pity but this was a girl in great need of help; she just lost her dad, she had no one in her life. Maybe she had money, she had a home, and Phoenix and the others would care for her, no doubt. But he didn't think it was enough, he had, the kind of help she could not get from all that.

Vera looked at him, unsure of what to say. She didn't understand what he meant but she didn't want to ask for many reasons. If she was going to die, well it was the best time for it. As for him being with her, she didn't get why he would show up. She was happy, but a little uncomfortable, it was fine.

He was afraid of being too pushy and he wondered if she wanted his help at all.

#saltwater writes #my writing

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jess-oh · 6 years

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Reflection

hey journal,

i finally got an e-mail back today from jeremy about the internship and turns out, i got it! im not surprised and idk what i was expecting but i am kind of sad. and im not entirely sure why. leading up to this reveal, i was debating on just going home for the majority of the summer or even just july and august and it was weird bc i was so excited to go home for the entire thing before but now all i felt was fear. it was a fear of returning to Sa-Rang bc i knew that i would feel so ostracized again and so afraid and i didnt want to go back to that. yes, i always feel such a strong connection with God back home bc thats a part of the culture but i also always felt so out of place. especially as an out of stater. there are so many people that i dont know and so many things theyve done that i was absent for. and our personalities just never really clicked. but then i started thinking, is it actually my fault? how is it that nothing has changed? really? is it really all on them or is it partially on me too? and i think it is. i think a big reason why i dont click with them is bc im always too afraid to be myself around them and try to just fit in instead to what everyone else is doing and saying instead of being my own person and i think it’s rubbed some people the wrong way. but i also have been unapologetically me in the past and i think my aggressive personality and boldness just turned some people off. but i do think me just constantly trying to fit in is a huge reason why i feel so awkward and find it so hard to maintain conversations with the people there. at least the problem isnt unsolvable at least.so i was right to some extent. i do need to keep working on myself and im not at a place yet where i am so firm in my identity in Christ that I can comfortably go home and just freely be me. That’s something that I need to work out. But now that I recognize it, I can continue to be aware of it and move forward from here.

I want to talk to someone but I’m not sure who to turn to. But it is pretty somber and upsetting. I would really like to go home but it does make more logical sense to stay here. To gain work experience, money, manage myself, and not have my parents worry about me. It’s great and I’m happy that I’m not being an extra burden on their shoulders on top of everything that they’re already focusing on.

sidenote: im actually incredibly pessimistic and make things a lot worse in my head than they actually are in reality. im not optimistic at all. thats a huge fallacy. im super pessimistic. ive verbally expressed how im the only sophomore and brought a lot of attention to that and yes, david and grace have been more active recently but were pretty MIA for the majority of the year. but even though david has been more present recently, i have still continued with this statement. and i wasnt the only freshman/newcomer. There was Michael, Yen, Grace, Jason, and Johnathan. Yes, Jason and Johnathan came later but I wasn’t alone for the whole year. If anyone, it was Grace that was alone bc I never came out to Sundays. I was only there on Fridays. I’ve been so blind and bitter in my ways and have only focused on all the negative aspects and feeling bad about myself and just assuming the worst in people instead of giving them the benefit of the doubt and seeing the world from a positive outlook. Yes, this past year has sucked and a lot happened. But it is nothing in comparison to the weight and pain my dad must have felt through it all. Everything has been indirectly hitting me and I just have to accept that there’s not much I can do about it. But my family actually has a direct responsibility to do something about it and are well and able to do so. And it hasn’t hit anyone harder than my dad. Both of his parents are or have been sick for years, he lost his nephew, his car broke down, he got laid off multiple times, he took ownership of the leaky pipes. i cant even imagine how much he took on in total and somehow, he’s still standing. he’s still serving and still trying so incredibly hard. ive been so consumed and obsessed with how everything has been affecting me that i never stopped and thought about how it’s impacted him. i’ve made things seem worse than they really are. i really am so grateful for my dad and so honored to call him my father. i just wrote him a long message via kakao expressing my gratitude and i hope he responds well. it came from a very genuine place in my heart.

theres still a lot that i need to figure out in my life but im slowly getting there.

ive been hanging out with my d&d crew a lot more recently—or at least just jordan and tykira and i feel so free when im with them and i think a big reason is bc my personality and beliefs and sense of humor arent super conservative. that isnt to say that they go against the Bible or God or anything. I would never do that. But the things I enjoy exploring are usually considered “taboo” within the church so it’s hard for me to find common ground without delving deep into certain issues. I really like Bo Burnham and Tina Fey bc they deal with real world issues in the form of comedy and I respond well to it. But not everyone does and are even turned off at the mention of these topics. Like rape, abortion, millennials, entitlement, shelter, protection, and more.

I’ve been so quick to label and judge other people, especially people in the OC, for how sheltered and spoiled and easy their life is compared to areas outside of there but ive failed to look at myself in the mirror and realize my own sheltered and spoiled tendencies. The only reason why I have to worry about food for the next day is because I’m not good at managing my money. I’m not that much better than people. Yes, I’m doing a lot at my age but others have been doing it for much longer. I am proud of how far I’ve been able to do and accomplish and it is mind boggling to me that there are people that have not even entered this sphere yet but I’m sure that other people view me in the same way when it comes to other issues. We’re all learning and slowly figuring ourselves and the world out and it takes time and everyone gets there at different moments. It has nothing to do with age and location but everything to do with experience. Not a lot of people have witnessed so many deaths but I’m sure others have battled with depression and suicide on much deeper levels than myself. And I just need to accept people as they come at whatever life stage they’re at instead of judging them and comparing them to me. I should just let them come as they are and accept them for who they are because that’s how the Father sees us. And I want to see the world in that way too. I don’t want to be afraid to speak up just bc it’s the unpopular opinion. I want to bring light and a new perspective to issues and topics no one seems to want to address and hopefully start a conversation as a result. What Anthony said a while ago still rings in my head. If I want to avoid pity, I need to stop pitying myself and viewing what I do and who I am as something to be pitied. I am me. And I am learning and growing and moving forward. And I want God to be an integral part of my life along the way. I have definitely been drowning myself in media recently and it’s honestly made me feel pretty gross. But I don’t want to live that way anymore. I want to keep going and move forward from here on out.

#reflection

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