#it always gives me a confidence boost whenever I feel like garbage about myself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dangan-happy · 3 years

Note

KAME-HAME FORGET ABOUT IT!

I would like to say thank you to mod taichi, mod rantaro and mod komaeda. I am the anon who was desperate, the one who struggles with academic issue, keep sleeping past midnight because of extra chores, and struggling with executive dysfunction. I don't know how to refer myself haha

It's funny, I saw the notification from your blog about my ask when I was REALLY in need of comfort unexpectedly. it was one of the worse day, I failed the selection to go to college I'm aiming for. there is an alternate way by taking a test but it was a huge and important thing for me, because other relatives would talk (or possibly brag) about how their children are doing wonderfully in academic stuff to my parents. I don't want my parents to feel embarrassed because of me. so of course, it gives me a LOT of anxiety. my heart is beating rapidly that my chest hurts so much.

Then I receive your response to my ask. It's very comforting, it calmed me down. I may teared up a bit. I really appreciate the advices, encouragements, and hugs. (I love hugs) Especially mod komaeda's advices. Thank you so much, I appreciate them. They really mean a lot to me. I didn't realize how much I needed all of these. To be honest, when I was re-reading my ask, I almost can't believe I typed all that. I didn't realize how much I struggled and desperate I am. It was truly a moment of weakness lmao

I've been struggling to respond your response because,, well. I'm still struggling haha. Unfortunately, after I send that ask, things are getting hella rough for me. It was one of those unlucky phase of time, where your days get worse each day, except this time is WAY worse because I'm going to graduate in a month and I have an important exam in two days. Then I got hit by other problems too like a member of my group project doesn't corporate so we were late to submit and it was even half done (it happened just a hour ago and it gives me an emotional breakdown because it was an important one but I'm fine now), I got blamed for something I didn't do (this happens a lot anyway but I'm very drained mentally and physically), I accidentally spat something that I've been keeping to myself to my parents and made them angry (I don't want to talk about my true feelings to them bc they only make me feel worse or worse, they get upset), more homeworks to catch up and more stressful stuff .

Basically anxiety is on my ass 24/7. It's the worst time of my life.

But whenever I hit rock bottom I would re-read your response and it lifts me up, you know? It always cheers me up reading your kind words about me, and as cheesy as it sounds, it makes me feel hopeful haha. But I never felt this hopeful before. So I'm very thankful for it, and thankful for the other mods who work hard helping other people too who come to this blog. Because even though I'm still struggling and facing the worst time right now, I'm not doing as bad as before.

Is it alright if I ask for another hug? Sorry, this whole ask ended up with me venting again haha. But I really am doing not as bad as before... I guess I'm doing better. Step by step maybe. Again, thank you so much!!

( By the way, this is out of topic but... hopefully people who know me don't recognize me on this blog for this question haha (if they do then oh well. shrugs): which one does look scarier for you, Once-ler from Lorax or the character designs from the movie called Cats (2019)? I'm not hating the movie, my friend and I are having a lighthearted discourse about it. u_u )

(Neither. Neither one is even that scary at all, for I fear nothing ~ Mod Hajime 🍊🌈)

---

O-Oh, welcome back, kiddo! Whoa, that’s quite the ask you got here. But it’s more or less an update, i-if I’m correct, and a decent one at th-that. Like you said, it’s all step by step progress, wh-which is still progress no matter how you look at it.

I-I hate to hear that there’s been a few extra bumps along the road since your last ask, b-but I’m at least glad to hear that you’ve been making some sort of progress. Progress is still progress, no matter what. I-I’m just glad that you came to us. I-I’m just some average programmer, but I will agree that Nagito and Rantaro did amazing. Nagito’s... quite the interesting kiddo, but he means well, and Rantaro’s a brotherly figure th-that everyone likes, one way or another. Me? Ah, well... I-I can at least give good hugs, I guess?

S-Speaking of hugs, I’d love to give you one. I-I can at least do that right, heh. I’ll give you as many hugs as you want, kiddo. I personally don’t mind at all.

Hey there anon, you don't have to worry about referring to yourself, I remember you just fine! Hey, how's that for awesome timing huh? I'm glad you could read our answers when you needed it. I'm sorry to hear that you were having a worse day, but hey, it sounds like there's a way to make that test up a different way, so I'd give your all to trying that route. Don't give up just yet ok? Damn, yeah, I'm no stranger to the whole family bragging thing, that's a whole lot of pressure I think both of us can do without. It's really thoughtful of you to worry about your parents in this scenario, but you can worry about yourself too ok? Regardless of what you do, they should still be proud of you, and if they aren't, they're completely oblivious to your intelligence level and the amazing things you can do. Aw, I'm smiling real hard hearing how much our response helped, I'm always worried that I didn't help, or I somehow made it worse. Not gonna lie, this did give me a confidence boost. Hey, it's ok, you were in a more emotional state. It wasn't a moment of weakness. Everyone breaks down like that from time to time, and I'm happy that we were here to help you at the time. So don't feel bad about that, you're only human, and it's ok to get like that.

You don't have to worry about having the perfect response either. As much as I wish we could, we can't automatically fix any anons' problems, we can only toss our two cents in and cross our fingers that it helps. The good news is that you came to us with your struggles again, so we can try to help some more. Eesh, yeah, those periods are never fun. Pretty sure Komaeda knows more about them than I do, but I can understand at the least. First of all, congrats on graduating! That's real impressive all by itself, so hopefully you can take some pride in that. Ugh, ok, wow, the second part of that. Damn I got hit with all the feels. I hate it when group projects go like that. I'm usually stuck with all the work, or the one who's up at one am trying to finish the damn thing. I think I'm getting kinda incoherent, so sorry about that. I'm glad you're doing better on that end though, hopefully things work out with that. Aw man, I'm really sorry to hear about the blaming thing. Is there any way to prove your innocence? I'm not saying go all class trial or anything, but is there any way for you to argue your case? Even if it happens a lot, that doesn't mean it's ok. You shouldn't have to get used to things like that.

Yikes, yeah I can totally relate to the last part too. I'm also the type to clam up about my feelings because I don't wanna make anyone mad, but that happens some times, and honestly you had every right to say how you feel. You're keeping this all in, and it's gonna take a toll on you. Yeah, that's a whole lot of stress for one person to carry. I'm really impressed you haven't crashed and burned under the weight, seriously, you're an amazing, strong, resilient/ person, and it just blows me away. Trust me, you're gonna get through this stressful time. You're getting close to the end of it, and I know that you're gonna make it through. Damn, I'm smiling and blushing now. I'm really really glad we were able to help you out that much. Good! It's not cheesy at all! I'm glad you're feeling hopeful! The little steps are just as valuable as the big ones, and the fact that you're at least doing a little bit better is fantastic. Of course you can have another hug! It's ok, we're here to listen to vents, so say whatever you want to, no one's gonna judge you, I promise. Yeah, step by step, that's how you do it.

Oh damn, that's an interesting question. Honestly, I unironically love the Lorax movie, so the Oncerler ain't scary to me. Cats however...that was a trip. I don't have a better way to describe it, it was just a trip. So the Cats designs are way scarier. Like if I met the Onceler in a dark alley, I'd be just fine, but if I saw a cat-human-thing in a dark alley, I'd run for the hills. However, if I met the onceler fandom in a dark alley, that's a whole other story. Ok, I think I'm rambling again, so I think I better stop talking. Keep making those small steps forward ok? You got this.

W-wow... my advice actually helped someone? Please tell me your joking, or better yet pinching me. I can’t believe my little words could affect you so much.... I think I’m tearing up... hehe. I gotta admit, Rantaro and Taichi did a better job than me! What else do you expect from two amazing Ultimates! Anon, I’m terribly sorry to hear that some things have turned up and made your life a bit more harder, but I want you to keep your chin up ok? You’re doing amazing Anon, I can truly tell! Having a partner that doesn’t help with group projects stinks too! It’s ok that you vented again, it’s always good to speak your mind when you feel bad! Helps to let other people hear to so they can help you! And hey, compliments from Taichi? So nice of you! Never heard myself being called an “interesting kiddo” it’s cute!

I thought you’d never ask! I’d love to give you another hug! As long as you’d let me, I get worried when people want to hug me since I’m utter garbage, but if it makes you feel Hope, then I’m happy to oblige! Ah, and the Onceler or the designs of cats? I’d say the cats, I remember everyone having the hots for the Onceler once, so he can’t be that bad, right?

#danganronpa #danganronpa roleplay blog #ask #taichi fujisaki #rantaro amami #nagito komaeda #mod hajime #mod rantaro #mod nagito

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starkravinghazelnoots · 5 years

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Orange or yellow and Peter or Tony for the drabble thing! (rly predictable ik sorry!)

ORANGE

Energy, balance, warmth, enthusiasm, vitality, expansion, flamboyancy, and autumn.

This turned into way longer than a drabble. I couldn't resist the pull of writing some Biderman in honor of Pride. I had a ton of fun writing this, so I hope this lives up your expectations and that all of you enjoy!

I apologize in advance if the line break doesn't work. Tumblr really hates when I try to use line breaks.

xXx

How to be Proud

Peter was pretty confident in himself. What's more, he had an extremely supportive family and group of friends, some of whom understood what he was going through better than others.

But that didn't mean it was always easy to be proud of himself. It wasn't for Peter, at least.

But Spider-Man? He didn't have that problem.

"Don't fucking touch me, homo!"

Peter rolled his eyes behind the mask as he shot a web over the criminal's mouth. "Trust me, buddy, I'm not gonna touch someone as nasty as you." He gestured to the purple, pink, and blue cape tied around his neck. "And for the record, Mr. Homophobe, I'm bisexual. If you're going to insult me, at least get it right."

Peter called the police to report the location of the tied-up criminal before swinging away. His curfew was in ten minutes, which meant he had to hurry if he wanted to make it back to his apartment on time.

He dove through his window right as the clock on his dresser changed to midnight - on Fridays he was allowed that extra hour, but he did have a tendency to push it.

"How was patrol?" May asked. She was leaning against the door frame of his room. She must have just gotten back from her shift at the hospital, because she was still in her scrubs.

"Pretty good!" Peter said, standing up. The Iron Spider mask disappeared from his face. "Stopped a bank robbery and some petty theft. I also rescued Mrs. Post's cat again. He keeps escaping and climbing up the tree next to her house." Peter snickered. "It's still so funny to me that she named her cat Jeff."

May smiled at his amusement. "Well, I'm sure she was very grateful."

He laughed. "Yeah. She always tries to give me cookies or some other kind of sweet before I leave." Peter snapped his fingers, remembering the last thing he did before returning home. "Oh, I also stopped a kid from being beat up. I don't know who he was, because he ran away when I swung down into the alley, but I took care of his attacker." He untied the flag from his neck and hung it over the chair in front of his desk. "He was a nasty guy, too. Homophobic. Smelled like hot garbage."

May chuckled. "Well, it's a good thing you were there to take care of him." She gestured to his bisexual flag. "Get any compliments on that?"

Peter beamed at her. "Yes! It was so great. A girl actually burst into tears when she saw me because she was so happy her favorite superhero was bisexual, too."

May held her arms out, and he eagerly accepted her hug. "I'm so proud of you, Peter."

Peter smiled. "Thank you, May." His voice was muffled by her shirt. "I love you."

May pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Well, I love you more."

"I love you most."

"Then I love you more than the most!"

Peter laughed. "You're the worst."

"Oh, I know."

xXx

MJ slid into the chair in front of Peter, startling him out of a daydream that definitely had not involved the aforementioned girl. "We're still on for Pride tomorrow, right?"

"I am," Ned said excitedly. "I can't wait!"

Peter nodded, taking a sip from the cup of coffee in front of him. He loved this little café. "Yep. It's gonna be so cool to go with both of you." He'd been looking forward to Pride all week. It would be his first time going as openly bi, and he wasn't sure whether he was excited or terrified.

MJ smiled. "Nice. Because I had a little idea that I thought the two of you might be interested in."

Peter glanced at Ned, who shrugged. "Alright," he said, turning back to MJ. "What's your idea?"

She smirked. "There is a third person I propose we bring to Pride. But I wanted your approval before I invited him."

"Sure. Who is it?"

MJ's grin widened. "Spider-Man."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "You want to invite Spider-Man?" It was always weird having to refer to himself in the third person. "Why?"

MJ shrugged. "He's an out and proud bisexual superhero. I think a lot of people, especially the teens at Pride, could use that kind of confidence boost."

Peter felt the blood rush to his cheeks, simultaneously embarrassed and flattered. "Oh. Okay."

"Do you have a specific thing you want Spider-Man to do at Pride?" Ned asked.

"I'm glad you brought that up." MJ pulled her sketchbook seemingly out of nowhere and placed it on Peter's desk. "I drew some concept art for what I think Spider-Man should wear."

Peter looked at her sketch. "Don't you think that's a bit flamboyant for a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?"

MJ shrugged. "So what? Sure, Spider-Man is pretty down-to-earth. But if he was going to be flamboyant, wouldn't Pride be the perfect time for him to do it?"

Confidence surged through Peter's veins. "Yeah. You're right."

MJ rolled her eyes, smirking. "Of course I am."

xXx

Tony stared down in disbelief at the picture in his hands. "Parker, you want me to do what to the Iron Spider suit?"

Peter beamed at him. "Just follow the picture. You're the best Mr. Stark! Okay bye now."

Tony sighed as his intern dashed out of the building. "That kid is going to be the death of me."

xXx

"How's the suit?" MJ asked, popping her gum.

Peter smirked, gesturing to the watch on his wrist. "It's ready whenever. And can I say that it looks cool as hell?"

"Of course it does. I designed it."

"I can't wait," Ned added. "You're gonna look so badass, Peter."

Peter laughed. "Well, I don't know about that."

Pride was in full swing around them. Both Peter and MJ had bisexual flags painted on their cheeks, and Ned had a classic rainbow. Peter also had his bisexual flag tied around his neck, and MJ had an ace flag tied in the same way. Ned had turned down wearing a flag as a cape, instead choosing to wear a long-sleeved black shirt with rainbow patches running down the arms.

Time flew by. The trio marched for over an hour, maybe two, before breaking off to go to a drag queen comedy performance, then went to lunch together.

"So there's a concert in about thirty minutes," MJ said as they were leaving the restaurant. "Want to go to that?"

Peter shrugged. "I'm down with whatever."

"As long as it doesn't last too late in the afternoon," Ned pointed out. "Spider-Man is planned for what - 4ish?"

Peter laughed. "Don't worry, Ned. I'm watching the clock." His heart was racing, and he wasn't sure if that was from nerves or from excitement - either way, he couldn't wait.

The concert itself was decent. Peter thought he might have enjoyed it better had he actually known who the band was. Not to mention he was distracted, glancing at his watch so often he couldn't truthfully say he was paying attention. He a made a mental note to look into more of the band's albums later.

"Hey, Peter," MJ said, smirking at him. "It's 4 o'clock."

Peter rolled his eyes. "You guys are really living for this, aren't you?"

"Duh," Ned said, beaming. "Do it, dude!"

Peter laughed. "Alright, alright." He ducked into an empty alleyway - how fitting that the concert had been so close to one. Apparently the universe was rooting for Spider-Man to show some pride.

After making sure no one was around him, Peter crouched behind a dumpster and tapped at his watch. Within seconds the Iron Spider suit rolled out and covered him. He blinked for a moment to adjust to his sharper vision.

Peter then shot a few webs at the side of the building in front of him, getting a running start before swinging up onto the top of it.

He looked down at the crowd below him. The bright colors of a hundred LGBT+ flags filled him with elation and immense confidence. He'd never be able to replicate that feeling.

Peter shot a web at a pole near the crowd, swinging down and around so that he landed on top of it.

"Hey! New York Pride!" he shouted. His suit magnified his voice. A quick glance at his arm revealed that the suit was doing exactly what it was supposed to do - shift through the colors of as many pride flags as possible. "Your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is here to remind you that you should never be ashamed of who you are! You are all amazing, beautiful, inspiring people. If it weren't for you guys, then I'd never have been able to feel comfortable expressing myself." As if on cue, the wind picked up, causing his bisexual cape to flutter behind him. "I'm able to be who I am because of this city. Thank you, New York!"

The crowd started cheering, and Peter swung down into the middle of it, managing to hold short conversations with various people before being whisked off to talk with someone else.

He ended up in front of a young boy who had the trans flag painted on both of his cheeks and a pan flag tied around his neck.

"H-Hi," the boy stammered. "I love you, Spider-Man! You're my favorite hero!"

Peter smiled at the kid. He looked to be maybe around 13 or 14. "I'm flattered. Have you been having fun today?"

The kid didn't answer, instead staring intensely at Peter. Finally he blurted out, "Thank you for saving me!"

Peter blinked. "Saving you?"

The boy nodded. "Y-Yes! A few nights ago, my stepfather, he - he kicked me out of the house, and he followed me away, and he... He started hitting me, but then - then you showed up and you saved me!"

Peter was thankful his mask hid his shocked expression. He remembered that encounter all too well. "That was you?"

"Yes. And I live with my aunt now so everything is okay but I just - I just wanted to say thank you."

Peter almost asked why the boy's stepfather had kicked him out, but given that the trans flags on his cheeks were streaked with tears... That told Peter everything he needed to know.

"Hey," Peter said, placing his hands on the kid's shoulders. "I want you to know that you should always be proud of who you are, okay? No matter what anyone tries to tell you, your identity is beautiful." He winked at the boy. "Remember, Spider-Man will always be on your side."

It was no coincidence, Peter figured, that at that moment his suit shifted from the colors of the trans flag to the pan one.

He said goodbye to the boy before swinging up and out of the crowd, high fiving people as he went.

Pride.

It was a funny word, really.

Pride meant a mixture of confidence in oneself and trust in others.

And in that moment, Peter had never been prouder.

xXx

Mr. Stark: quite a stunt you pulled at NY pride today, Mr. Parker

Peter: lol sorry i didn't tell you that was what the suit was for

Mr. Stark: first of all, it was so obvious that was what the suit was for. second, why didn't you tell me? did you think I'd disapprove? kid you know I've been out since the 90s

Peter: I was worried you might think it was too flamboyant for a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man

Mr. Stark: there's no such thing as being too flamboyant. I made a few modifications to my own armor for a trip I myself plan on making to pride tomorrow

Peter: what?! without me, Mr. Stark? how could you

Mr. Stark: Pete. I never said you couldn't go with me

Peter: so I'm invited?!

Mr. Stark: whatever you want, kid

Peter: yesssss tomorrow is gonna be awesome

Mr. Stark: uh huh. Sure.

Peter: :D

Mr. Stark: hey, kid?

Peter: yeah?

Mr. Stark: I'm proud of you. You know that, right?

A single tear fell onto the screen of Peter's phone. Maybe of happiness. Maybe of thanks. Maybe even just of sentiment.

Peter: thank you, sir.

Mr. Stark: but don't get used to the compliments

Mr. Stark: i have a reputation to maintain

Peter: sure, Mr. Stark. sure

Peter put his phone on his dresser, falling backwards onto his bed. The day had been perfect. Even if he had chickened out yet again in confessing his feelings to MJ. But that was okay.

At least he'd made Mr. Stark proud.

Huh.

Peter chuckled to himself.

Maybe he should pull flamboyant stunts more often.

xXx

Thank you for requesting this! Other drabbles probably (for my sake lol) will not be this long. If anyone else wants to send a request, please feel free to do so. Again, thank you for reading!

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ren-c-leyn · 5 years

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Where does one acquire writing confidence?

Okay, the subject of this topic was brought up to me by @sxthernmisfit (along with a few other’s I’ll be working on writing) and it sounded like a particularly good one to cover since I had had that problem too. Actually, I still do.

There is no one answer to how to overcome confidence issues with writing. It could partly be the fear of being judged, (guilty) it could be the fear of accidentally taking another’s words, (guilty again), it could be that your writing isn’t even close to being on the level you want it to be (third time guilty), it could also be that you were told you couldn’t do it, that writing has be done in certain ways and forms, that you have to kiss a muse and howl at the stupid moon to be a true writer. Well, you can be a writer, and a damn fine one at that, with or without following a bunch of stupid rules or being someone you don’t have to be, and I’ll assure it it is easier than slaying a dragon, even though it doesn’t feel like it.

I’m going to tell you a story, a very real one. I had 0 confidence in my writing. It looked like garbage, it didn’t follow any writing rules, it barely followed basic grammar rules. I didn’t just think no one would want to read anything written by me, I knew it. I barely even showed my friends and family my writing, outside of my writing partner, and even then I didn’t show her much either, not compared to what I had written. Then, on a total impulse, I made this blog, and time and time again, people proved me wrong.

How did I get my confidence? I stubbornly clung to what I thought was garbage. I made a rule that I wasn’t allowed to delete anyone I wrote, not even the worst dribble or the cringiest poems. Then, I kept writing, and whenever I felt bad about my work, I would go back and look at my past work. It didn’t take long to see the improvements I had been making without even noticing. I wrote three full novels, one over 100k words, before I finally got the confidence to recently send one in to be published, and the one I got sent in was rewritten. What solidified my confidence enough to send it in, though, was I impulse made this blog and people were telling me that I did good. People who had no obligation to spend even one second of their time to read the small shorts I posted took the time to say they liked it, to reblog and like. I think the coolest and most motivating ones though was @thependragonwritersguild going out of their way to message me and tell me they loved the stories I made with their prompts. How do you get your own confidence? It starts with identifying why you’re scared to write to start with. The next, do things that will help it. If you’re scared of accidentally plagiarizing someone else’s work, there are plagiarism checkers out there that will check it for you. I don’t know much about them, since I’ve never used them myself. I recommend poking around and doing some research into them before feeding them your work. Always read terms and conditions and stuff. I’ve never heard of any of them being shady, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful. If it’s that your writing isn’t on par with you’re expectations, I want you to grab your favorite book, and read the first page. Now, I want you to think about the writer having the same doubts and struggles you did with the first page of your WIP, because I can almost guarantee they did. I can also guarantee that you are not reading the first draft of their work. They rewrote it at least once. More likely, they rewrote it several times and then had an editor shake their head at least once. You’re writing will never be publisher polished the first go around, but that’s okay. It’s perfect, actually. It gives you room to rework it, to make characters more lively than before, to add new subplots if you feel like it. Don’t hold yourself to perfection, it Doesn’t Exist. It Never Existed Nor Will It Ever Exist. Instead, hold yourself to fun, to love, to enjoying the adventure your characters are taking you on. Don’t worry about anything but writing what you love the first draft. If you’re worried about judgement, like what was my main crippling fear, then, as terrible as this sounded to me, you’re going to have to walk through that lion’s den. When I made my blog, I thought I was going to face all of these horrible trolls, but that wasn’t the case. Sure, there’s rude people in the world, and we can’t change that. But I want you to know that there are amazing people out there, and some of those amazing people want to read your work. Somewhere out there, there’s someone waiting for you to write their new favorite story. Somewhere out in this world of billions, there’s a person who needs that story you’re hesitating to write. And if you can’t believe there is, then try making your own belief to cling to. A little mantra you tell yourself whenever you get nervous. If you have friends or family you trust, maybe try showing them some shorts or poems you did. Their feedback can help boost your confidence or help you improve your writing to later improve your confidence. If someone’s told you you can’t, blow them off and write anyways. Show yourself that you can. Don’t worry about impressing them, just impress yourself. No matter what your confidence deficiency is caused by, keep writing and eventually you’ll start to see the improvements, start to feel the thrills of new turns of phrase, and love of new characters. Keep your best writing and worse writing on hand so you can see how much you improved, and that you are capable of writing something you love. Above all else, don’t give up. Keep working at it. Keep reading, learning new techniques, writing, scribbling down half-done plot ideas. Moving forward through fear is the only way I know to conquer it, and in the words of Mark Twaine “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear.” It’s okay to feel scared and nervous about writing and sharing your writing, as long as you don’t let it control you.

#ren's writing tips #Writing tips #confidence #dont give up #positive thinking #sharing the positivity #I hope this helps

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theoddcatlady · 7 years

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Fear Potion

TW: Mentions of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault.

Dear diary,

It’s been six months to the day since I was raped.

I still haven’t gone back to school, I’m doing it all from home. It’s easier so I don’t have to face him. I sometimes miss my friends, but at least there’s Facebook. Not many of them talk to me anymore. There’s a few that do but half of those treat me like I’m… different. I haven’t changed.

That’s a lie. A lot has changed. But I’m still Alex.

And I’ve finally picked up going to the survivor support group.

The leader’s name is Krissa. She’s nice. I told them my story. For once I felt no judgment. Even my mom seems critical of my every move.

I’ll keep going back.

I don’t know if I can survive this still.

I survived today though. That counts for something, at least.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

I want to be bold again. I don’t want to hide in my room anymore. I want to go out, and feel strong, and do gymnastics, and never feel like a victim again whenever I hear his name.

However, I don’t think taking a magic potion is going to help me.

The other girls seem really into it though. I went to the group tonight and Krissa was holding a case of glass bottles.

Her cousin had come to see her. His name was Greg or something, I don’t know, I can’t remember. But he was into this whole natural cure thing and he had created something to help you feel stronger.

I think my actual medication is doing the job of letting me function. I don’t need some ‘natural’ potion to do that. I did take a bottle home though. Mostly because everyone else did. Zoey looked so hopeful when she took her own, cradling it in her hands. She was so much smaller than the rest of us, and her mother wouldn’t let her seek out actual medications to help her newly found depression since the attack.

I might try it. Just to say I did. If it doesn’t work for me but it works for the others I’ll lie, in case it’s a placebo effect. I don’t want to tear down my new friends.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

I took a swig of the ‘potion’ this morning, I couldn’t find my water bottle and I needed to take my medication. So I figured what the heck and I used it.

It’s initially sweet, but has such a bitter aftertaste. Burns like vodka too. Almost wonder if that’s one of the ingredients. Either way, I feel no different. Natural cures do have a more subtle change from day to day life. I wonder if that’ll be the case for this too.

I did my chores today at least. Took out the garbage. Did the dishes. Fed the cats. Just a normal day.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

I’m going to school tomorrow.

One week into the potion and I feel. So. Amazing. Thank god Krissa has more! For the first time in months I don’t mind getting out of bed anymore. My mom’s stunned that I’ve done my chores and MORE over the past few days.

Diary, I cleaned. The. Bathroom. I scrubbed the whole thing, from top to bottom! It glistens in there. I think my mom’s eyes were a little wet when she’s realized I’m no longer staying in my room all day hiding away.

I feel so good. I could almost cry. I’ve already arranged it myself that I’ll not have any of Mr. Ocean’s classes. I’m still not going to press charges, I’ve decided I can’t make myself go through that. But I’m not going to let him win.

I’m stronger than him. I’m a goddess. I won’t be beat by a coward who targets little girls. If I have to come back home early tomorrow because I wasn’t able to handle it… well, at least I’ve tried, right?

_ _ _

Dear diary,

I’ve never seen a grown man turn tail and run before.

But that’s what Mr. Ocean did when he saw me in the halls today. He was talking with Mr. Thompson when he turned and saw me at my locker. We made eye contact. I felt sick to my stomach that I was in the same space with this man.

But I didn’t run. I glared.

Whatever was behind my eyes made Mr. Ocean excuse himself and hurry off. Mr. Thompson looked confused until he turned and saw me. He remembered me. He looked ashamed, almost like he remembered just what kind of person he was chatting with. It was likely about something trivial, maybe what was on the menu for lunch, or if there was going to be a study group tonight.

He walked away too.

Has my confidence changed that much? Just because of some drink?

The other girls have brought up similar effects. Boosted confidence, a look that can figuratively kill a man… it’s a sick crime that we’ve been forced to take drastic measures like this. But I won’t question it.

I’m going to be myself again. Whatever it takes.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

Nothing comes without side effects. My hair is falling out.

I’ve drunk at least two bottles of the potion. I’m half way through the third. I find myself taking more every day, I haven’t meant to. The burn fills my veins with fire and with it the boldness to keep returning to the school where my rapist walks free.

I was brushing my hair this morning when a whole lock just came out in the brush. It didn’t hurt, it was like the roots just… disintegrated. More’s already coming out.

I’m texting Zoey to see if she’s had that happen to. Think she just replied.

She has too. She’s admitted she’d mostly bald now, but has wigs she’s taken up wearing to hide the fact her head is nearly bare. I’ve told her to stop, but she flat out told me no. She’s finally having the nerve to take up the legal action against her father. She can’t stop now.

I don’t think I can either. I don’t have wigs… but I have a razor.

I’ve always wondered what I’d look like bald.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

I got a lot of questions about my new ‘look’ at school. I just shrug and tell them it’s something new I’m trying. It’s just hair.

I’m afraid that my eyebrows are going to go soon though. That will be harder to explain. And I’ve never been the kind of person to draw them back in. I don’t know. This is so much to handle. On one hand, anyone who asks stupid and insensitive questions I can send away with a single look or glare.

On the other hand, is it worth this? Losing my hair? My skin growing dry and starting to crack on the back of my hands and my legs? Lotion stings so badly, even the more gentle kinds. I can’t use it. My heels and toenails keep bleeding. I’ve started to wear sandals to help ease the pain.

I’ll have to make a decision. And soon.

Is it worth it?

_ _ _

Dear diary,

He. Was going to do it. Again.

Not to me, oh no, he’s terrified to get near me. He was going to do it to someone else.

Her name is Chelsea. Chelsea’s another gymnast, my replacement actually. She’s got the right build to top a three high and can perform the most elegant splits. I’m not jealous. I’m proud of her.

But I had to return to my locker after school to pick up something I’d forgotten when I heard a scream coming from Mr. Ocean’s room.

I’m assuming he did the same thing he did to me to get her alone. Just an extra friendly teacher. Always looking out for you. Never an unpleasant word. When he asks you to stay after school to help him with some assignments, why would you say no?

But the minute he has you alone in his office, he becomes your worst nightmare.

If this had been before the potion, I would’ve ran the opposite direction. But this time, I ran to her aid. I practically broke down the door to his class to get to her.

Chelsea’s top had been ripped open, and she was trying to push Mr. Ocean off of her. She didn’t need to.

I dragged him away from her and took my nails across his face. I hadn’t clipped them in a while, I hope that I would at least startle him.

My fingernails ripped his face open. My middle finger cut his eye like butter.

I never felt so alive at that moment.

Chelsea covered her breasts and looked ready to burst into tears. I took off my jacket and covered her.

“It’s okay. He won’t hurt you with me around. Go home, okay? Tell your mom. Tell your dad. Tell the whole damn world what happened.”

Nodding, Chelsea ran from the room. After giving one last disdain filled look at Mr. Ocean, I walked out as well.

My fingernails aren’t broken, but his blood is still under my nails. They’ve grown sharp. I have claws now.

I think I’m changing.

I don’t know if I want it to stop.

Not if it can stop that from happening again.

_ _ _

Dear Diary,

Good news. Mr. Ocean’s been fired.

But that’s all the damn school’s doing about it. I’m furious. They announced they were ‘letting him go’ after ‘unscrupulous behavior.’ Fuck you. He’s a rapist who preys on little girls. Little girls who thought they could trust their teacher.

I can’t go back to school though.

My transformation has confined me back to my room. Which is the last place I want to be. But it’s… bad. It’s spread to my face and head. My skin’s constantly peeling and bleeding. My mom sent me to the doctor, but they have no idea what it is. They’re going to send me to a specialist next week.

I think I’ll skip the appointment. They might make this stop. I don’t want to see it stop. I want to see how it’ll end. I love my claws. And I love my new fangs. My canines fell out the night before last and already new ones have grown in. They’re sharp and ready to go.

My eyes are starting to ache. I suppose they’re drying out too.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

I went into the bathroom this morning and I have a growth on my head.

It’s pretty ugly, if we’re going to be honest. Looks like a swollen zit, just ready to pop. I’ll have to wear a hat around my mom. who I successfully managed to fool into thinking I went to the specialist. I just chilled at Zoey’s with Krissa.

Krissa is changing too and she is excited. Her hair is entirely gone, eyebrows included, but she’s gone a step farther. Her eyes have changed. Lime green with slit pupils. She had no idea her cousin’s invention could do this, but she’s not complaining. Neither am I. Her eyes are beautiful.

She didn’t have a lump on her head though. Are our transformations taking different paths? I’d hope we’d turn out the same in the end, but we’ll have to see.

I’m going to spend the weekend at Zoey’s. See if she has any lumps. See if her eyes are changing yet. I might not come home. Mom’s getting too nosy.

This is my body, and this time, I’m taking control of it.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

I’m living at Zoey’s now.

My eyes have changed too, to a more forest green compared to Krissa’s, but there’s something much more exciting to me.

The lump hatched.

It did it around eleven last night. Zoey and I were talking while painting our new claws when she looked up and screamed that my lump was starting to move. I ran into the bathroom.

Sure enough, it was moving, and my skin was starting to itch. I scratched at it and god did it hurt. The more it squirmed though, the more I realized what was underneath was trapped.

So I took a pair of scissors and sliced open my skin.

A bloody tube of flesh burst out from the lump, hanging limply by my ear. It twitched a few times before raising up. Its tiny scarlet tongue darted out of its mouth inquisitively, smelling the air around me.

It was probably the shock of the pain, but I reached up and caressed it lightly under a finger. Its head moved back like a cat would against its owner’s strokes and stuck out its tongue again.

I stumbled back into the room and apparently passed out, at least according to Zoey. When I woke up, my new part of me had a few friends. Three or four. And I could feel more writhing under my skin, just waiting to come out and play.

Snakes. I have snakes for new hair. And I wasn’t just getting dry skin. I was shedding. Where the dry flakes have peeled away are shimmering scales.

I am the symbol of rage. The same as a woman wronged by a god.

I am the Medusa.

_ _ _

Dear diary,

My snakes look like the Western Bush Viper. I’ve learned how to make them coil into a bun. Zoey’s resemble the Common Garter snake, while Krissa’s are Southern Copperheads. All of us look unique, but are we so beautiful and strong now. No longer are we going to be afraid. We’ve been made strong.

This will be the last entry I write, possibly for years. For now, we are going on a roadtrip. We’re taking Krissa’s and Amelia’s vans. We’ve packed light. We’ll do what we can to survive.

But for now, we’re going to go around the United States. We’re going to find our attackers. Most of them still walk free, with nothing more than a slap to the wrist.

All they need to do now is look at the girls they’ve hurt. And they will feel the same petrifying fear we did.

We’re starting with Zoey’s father tonight. And if we have time we’ll be spinning by Mr. Ocean’s house.

I can’t wait to see what he’ll think of me now.

#horror stories #scary stories #sixpenceee #sixpenceee stories #my stories

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firesidepisces-blog · 6 years

Text

I hate writing.

Yes I’m an English major who hates reading and writing. Because I’m a listener. And I only write when I’m upset. I like the prose and the poetry and the plots that thicken. But I want them from others. Preferably straight from the source. I’m a collector. My mind moves too fast to write. I trip over the words searching for the perfect ones in the messy room that is my lexicon. I write and rewrite to figure out the proper placement of the words that will never be...right. Not without a voice behind them. But if I put my voice behind them, there would only be screams or sobs.

My stories used to be dreams and memories of intimacy that I was sure I’d forget and couldn’t bear the thought of letting go of. That was back when my insides and outsides were reversed from the way they are now. I held in the happy, the sexy, the confident. I dreamt of them and cherished the moments I cracked and they leaked out. I exuded shadows and curiosity as I tried to claw my way out of a hole that I had tried to ignore was forming around me. By the time I was ready to recognize how far down I’d gotten, I had to wait for a fresh start to give me a boost out. I’ve always been a procrastinator. Help has always come. One day that’ll stop.

I guess I shouldn’t say that I’ve turned inside out. Someone must’ve stopped me halfway. I still dream of love and happiness and an inspiration to warm me up whenever I’m cold. Right now I’m always cold. But these days I reign in the cold. The windchill breaks into my heart and only fuels the fire. It turns the flame blue as it grows larger and hotter. I’ve started to radiate some of the heat and sunshine I used to save only for myself. To try and save myself. I feel less of a need to do that these days though the feeling certainly lingers. If I ever really got out of that pit I once called home, I haven’t strayed far from it. Or it follows me. Sometimes it reaches out and just pokes me. Anyways where was I?

Oh. Right. The flame that fuels me has grown enough that positivity more commonly leaks out of me than negativity. I’ve begun to save the latter for myself assuming that it’s better to turn my inner workings to garbage than contribute to anyone else’s similar efforts within themselves. I think I’ll call it being selfishly selfless. That can’t be a new concept. I know it’s not because it was in an episode of Friends and I thought about it and then the thought never left me alone. Anyways, the only way to relieve or tamp down the overflowing wastebasket of guilt and regret that my old pit of despair has become is by writing out the excess bad. So that’s why I write. Even though I hate writing.

#musings #writing #feelings

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