#i have a slight problem of guilt tripping my parents into buying me shit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

toorebelstrawberry · 2 months

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What do you do about other fat friends when they start noticing you lose weight cuz I have a "friend" who all she ever thinks about is her looks like she a pick me girl, she is always like, I'm so ugly, omg you guys don't like me bc I'm ugly

And one time two of my friends were doing that mewing thing 🤫🧏‍♂️ and because her jaw is like bigger than the rest of her face she thought they were making fun of her and stopped taking to them and said the were fake friends, I don't like being mean but honestly she isn't pretty even if her jaw was normal she still looks ugly but then whenever it comes to guys she like who, the two I know one of them does look better than her and the other one is just average, she is always like, I lowered my standards form them and they are so ugly and stupid this and that, I don't really like how she acts either, she talks like she stole her personality from tiktok and she is so rude for no reason because she likes talking about people behind their back ( I know I am doing that rn but I'll touch on that later ) and then calling them stupid for not knowing everything she knows and one time I did better on a test than her and she was like how did you do that In supposed to be the smart friend like I'm just smart usually and that's also why I stopped congratulating her when she did well because she is to fucking self centered to care about anyone else, also about the talking behind her back the only reason I'm doing that is because when you try to talk to her attitude to her face she is either starts trying to guilt trip you and say it's because her family is abusing or accuse you of being mean cuz she is ugly. When me and my friend told her about her behavior she was like you need to stop victimizing yourself, if I wasn't at school I would have mauled her alive cuz that scratand my core and not only that but she is a nasty rat too cuz she always has a washcloth to her face and I've seen her drop it and put it back by her face and cough in it and put it back and because of that I keep telling her to leave my stuff cuz she is disgusting but then she takes her nasty washcloth and opens my bottle to put her mouth to it, like ew bitch I don't even let my parents do that and I told her that and she still did it, suffice to say a threw out all the water right after she did it while she was still in front me and she looked so upset because it got on her leg 🥺 but we had PE that day and I didnt even get to drink any water because of her bs, I had to buy another one, she also likes talking about poop and stool for some reasonand I tell her not to and she still does, I also have a slight case of misophonia (can't stand people chewing) but yet although I told he that she still goes right in frontof my face and chews its nast as hell she also types like she doesn't know English and for some reason it pisses me off when people type like that. I love complaining about stuff here that's why I posted this but I just can't wait to see the look on her face when I am skinny and look even better, Js I have a few other fat friends and none of them are like this so idk what her problem is

These are the poop messages, I got a new phone recently so I don't have all the other shit she sends but this was just from last week

#ed not ed sheeran #4norexi4 #ana bllog #tw ana diary #ana rant #i want to ⭐️ve #tw disordered eating #disordered eating thoughts #4norexla #4n0r3xia #fake friends #weird friends #weird #personal blog #blog #personal rant #rant post #rant

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pompousbiscuit · 3 years

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(Y/N) Meets Zeke Yeager at a Radiohead Concert In the Year 2012 (Yes, It's The King Of Limbs Hour For Sure)

(You-16 Zeke-17 Porco-16 Pieck-17 Colt-16 Yelena- 17)

I don't fucking know why I think of these things, but here I go, this is for all of you Superior-Music-Taste-Thom-Yorke-er- Radiohead-virgins out there B)

The year is 2012, (Y/N) is 16, and the setting is a Radiohead concert almost one year post-King-Of-Limbs-album-drop.

After working for a few months at your first part time job, you were able to save enough cash to buy concert tickets for you and a friend.

The location of the venue is about 2 hours from your hometown, and it's quite the road trip.

Either using your/your friend's car, or public transportation, to make the trip.

Zeke is 17, he's also at this concert with a group of his friends: Colt, Porco, Pieck, Yelena.

You're jamming out to all the hits, swaying your body to the sound of the music just right, and letting yourself go in a way you've only ever done alone in your bedroom.

King Of Limbs wasn't Radiohead's most well received album, but you love almost anything Thom, that droopy eyed bastard, and the other members put out.

Your friend that you came to the concert with is currently on a bathroom break, leaving you to your own devices in the crowded room.

"Separator" plays loudly throughout the concert hall; the drum beat feels like it has made it's way under your skin, and the melodic sound of Thom's voice feels as if it's an instrument in its own right.

Zeke is currently jogging back inside, he had left only for a moment during a run through of "Morning Mr. Magpie" for a smoke break.

(it's not particularly his favorite on the album)

"Separator" is one of Zeke's favorites comparatively, and he might hit himself after if he ends up missing the live rendition.

He sees a familiar slicked back head of blonde hair while peering over the heads of the crowd, and Zeke's relieved to see Porco turn around and wave him over.

Zeke makes a b-line for his friend, trying his best to shove through the crowd as politely, yet firmly, as he can.

Whilst making his way over, Zeke bumps into someone who's almost completely oblivious to his presence, until said person trips over themselves and falls to their feet.

You luckily brace yourself, your palms and wrists making contact with the dirty ground as to protect your face.

Normally, Zeke would most likely brush this off and claim the situation to not be his problem, and most likely continue on his path to his friends.

A change of heart? Guilt for being a catalyst in knocking you over? (as he suspects it would've happened eventually) Or maybe it's because he notices the way your ass looks in your blue jeans.

Zeke can tell a good ass when he sees one, and everybody has an ass to be appreciated after all, no consideration for gender identity or assigned anatomy needed.

Zeke pauses and decides 'ah, what the hell'.

Zeke crouches down and holds his hand out to you, flashing a boyish grin that suits his younger looking face well, as he begins to offer you an apology.

"My mistake for knocking you on your ass, I was trying to get to my friends... Need a hand?"

Zeke half yells this apology, and in the end it's still very muffled sounding due to the loud music.

You are wary of the boy in front of you, being very well versed in all the basic "stranger-danger" rules, the ones your care-taker/parental-figure drilled into you before you left.

But the slight tug of the left side of his mouth, the dimple in his cheek, his shaggy yet soft looking blonde hair, his stupid but admittedly cool glasses that hang low on the bridge of his nose...

He's cute, and you're too aware of the fact to deny his hand that he's offered to you.

You say a "Thanks", only letting yourself look him in the eye for hardly a second, as he accepts your hand into his roughly textured one.

You feel a flush begin on your chest and rise up to your face, ashamed of yourself for practically drooling at the feeling of just a grasp of a hand around your own.

Zeke assists you in rising to your feet, and he can almost feel your eyes tracing his form, taking him in.

He looks rather typical, a dark t-shirt with a faded "Kid A bear" logo printed on it, under a wrinkled rusty-toned flannel with rolled up sleeves, dark denim loosely encompasses his lanky legs that end with damaged and worn low-top skate shoes.

You only realize your hand is still in his own, when you catch the cheeky look in his eye, after scanning back to to his face.

You retract your hand from his, with suspiciously quick retreat, that has him grinning a little wider.

"Name's Zeke, do you have one?"

You can smell his last cigarette on his breath as he talks, you're both in close proximity due to the people around you.

The performance of "Separator" is almost long forgotten at this point, it's now just the background noise to your first conversation with each other.

You shift your weight back and forth to each foot, settling on leaning to your right side, before looking up to answer him.

"It's (Y/N), and it's okay, I was kinda in my own world for a minute there..." You answer honestly, but almost too bashfully, taking the blame for your tumble.

Zeke shakes his head and answers immediately, "No, I wasn't really paying attention to who I was knocking into, but I guess I was kinda lucky that you happened to be my first victim."

His voice has a slight rasp to it, though he's just 17 he admittedly smokes like a chimney.

His words also have an attractive cadence to them, you can already tell he's a smart ass by the way he's immediately putting the moves on, but you find yourself not really caring all too much.

Zeke starts again, "I also get like that though, in my head I mean, 'specially with "Separator"..."

You nod along and begin to talk to him more about your interest for the track, hardly noticing as the minutes roll by, and with the song changing into "Little by Little".

The both of you exchange words and information throughout the next song, like your ages, preferred albums, what other concerts you've been to.

Zeke completely forgets about his friends in the minutes he's conversing with you, and the same happens with you, until Porco loudly appears with Colt behind Zeke.

"Dude! I waved you over like 10 minutes ago! What the hell Zeke? You're dragging your ass and the other's are-" Porco's sentence cuts off as his eyes drift over to you, understanding the hold up.

Porco turns his head to Zeke and receives a glower from the taller boy. Whilst wearing a shit eating grin, Porco gives Zeke a curt nod and a slap on the shoulder.

"Whatever, just shoot me text in a few man,"

Porco's eyes catch your your for second, as he raises a hand for a quick sayonara,

"Nice meeting ya'."

Zeke pushes up his glasses as he shakes his head in annoyance and heaves a sigh.

As Porco gestures for a confused Colt to follow him back to the rest of the group, you catch eyes with your own friend.

They give you an apologetic glance but then notice Zeke near you, they hold up their hand and toggle back and forth between a thumbs up and thumbs down, silently asking if Zeke's presence was a bother.

You give a thumbs up, which they respond with a double thumbs up, as they make their way over to a group of people and easily start to blend in.

You turn back towards Zeke and offer a smile, finally free of interruptions, as the song ends and fades into "Lotus Flower". Commotion erupts throughout the crowd, as the majority cheer for one of the most favored songs.

Zeke offers you a smile as well, and shuffles a step or two closer, before beginning to speak again.

Ending it there! If I make a follow up then that'll be over here when the time comes: Part Two

I actually... I don't even... Why, that's all I have to say, just why???

Thanks so much for the notes on my previous post! That was my first time hitting over 100 notes!

Tbh... "The King of Limbs" is on the same level as "In Rainbows" for me, soz if you're offended by that statement dawg. Lmk your opinions!

I am Zeke Trash #1, and you're watching Disney Channel

EDIT:

OK, IN LIGHT OF THE NEW EPISODE HERE IS SPICY TEENAGER ZEKE

FUCK IT UUUPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!! imagine this bitch ass in some skater slouchy grungy garbage, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

zeke liking radiohead [zeke playlist] -> MONKE

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kafkasgods · 3 years

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faaya

“We'll buy back our own harm with what is most dear to us.” ― Euripides, Iphigenia in Aulis

tw mentions of puke, suicide

Space. Faaya was buying herself space. That’s all it was suppose to be. Just time to sort out her feelings and reevaluate her priorities. Bentley’s confession had made her afraid. Being frozen under the drakon’s gaze had made her afraid. Dayn’s hospitalization made her afraid. Fear was power and Faaya was spiraling, powerless.

The text messages with Luke wasn’t suppose to go that route initially. She had already bought their gifts and she didn’t want the obligations of giving them to weigh on her while she figured things out. She’d give Luke his gift, let Luke give her gift for Bentley as his, and she could step away from the holidays easily. Then somewhere along the way, Faaya thought Luke was going to feel the way she pulled back eventually and she didn’t want to have another talk about it, so she’d let him down on her own terms. While he took it as well as she could expect, the guilt still lingered. Thumb on her screen, Faaya scrolled through the texts again as she sipped her hibiscus tea. Then, she swiped back to mull over Bentley’s texts.

“Faaya?” Glancing up from her phone, Adam got her attention from his seat at the bar. “Not working?”

He was Dayn’s friend, though Adam was a quiet person. She didn’t know him that well, but she had nothing against him either. “Not really. I had to come in to fix something. I’m just getting a drink since I’m here. You don’t visit these parts often.”

Adam lifted his shoulders and spoke only after a moment, changing the subject. “I heard you were with Rune. During the snow in,” he clarified. [6:01 PM] It took a moment for Faaya to remember. Right. Son of Ares. “Yeah, he saved my life and was blessed by your dad.��

“He saved you?” The slight surprise on Adam’s face didn’t really make sense for what Faaya knew of Rune, but she guessed she didn’t know him that well either. She was biased too, anyway. “What happened?”

“You can ask him if you’re so curious.”

“Probably not,” Adam answered, oddly honest. “He did okay though? He was alright?”

“As far as I can tell.” Ice clinked against her glass as she stirred it.

“Alright, thanks.”

A simple guy, Adam paid and left, leaving her with half a glass of her drink left—A light shone from the ground—And his phone, apparently. Faaya was not a nosy person, she didn’t think, but seeing Dayn’s name across the screen along with hers in the message made her curious. He was typing something, but she scrolled up to get some context. [6:03 PM] Dayn Thompson: yea faaya came by once

Dayn Thompson: she was my emergency contact

Dayn Thompson: im changing that to you btw

Adam Hudson: so my phone’s never gonna stop ringing huh

Adam Hudon: how’d that go

Dayn Thompson:

Dayn Thompson: it was weird though

Dayn Thompson: i told her about siding with athena and that was fine but then she started crying and idk it made me super uncomfortable

Dayn Thompson: like were not dating and even if we were we just never did that stuff really

Dayn Thompson: i wouldnt want to start now

Adam Hudson: you guys dated for awhile. wouldn’t that come up

Dayn Thompson: yea but she kept that shit to herself and that was better

Adam Hudson: you sound like a dick

Dayn Thompson: hey if actually loved her then maybe i might feel different but not the case man

Dayn Thompson: yea id definitely handle it better if i like really really cared about them

Dayn Thompson: and faayas just not soft like normal girls it just doesnt look good on her

Adam Hudson: if you didn’t like her why do you keep getting back together

Dayn Thompson: because she lets me ig

Dayn Thompson: its just super easy to get back with faaya if i feel like it [6:03 PM] At some point reading the messages, her heart had dropped. Every fear she’d ever had about Dayn was true and Faaya felt sick. Deep down, she’d always known she was just some play thing for him to pass the time with. There was too much going on around her now. The music, the laughing, the dancing, the lights. She had to get out, it all felt too small. After dropping Adam’s phone off in the lost and found, she drove back home, feeling a numbing in her arms and legs.

Stumbling out of her car, she wanted to hurry up to her apartment so she could throw up the rock in her stomach . The drive had only made her feel sicker. But of course, it wasn’t over. Because there was Bentley standing by her building with his jaw locked and an unfamiliar anger set in his brow bone. It didn’t get better when he saw her approaching.

“Bentley, I told you I didn’t want to talk.” The strength in her voice wasn’t there. Maybe he’d try again later.

“You weren’t going to reply again.” It was true. “Check your phone, Faaya.”

There was no room to argue, so she did so gritting her teeth. A message from Luke with his Christmas gift to her. Why did everything have to be so hard and hurt so much? It was like there was bright and happy future that was out of reach, but beckoning her towards it. The problem was, it just wasn’t possible—Bentley was fragile. Luke was sensitive. And Faaya was afraid. Always afraid. She just didn’t realize how much until now. [6:04 PM] “What do you want me to do? Say sorry and go on the trip with you guys?” Faaya asked exasperated.

“I want to know why you thought it was a good idea to get Luke involved in this. Your problem is with me.”

“Luke’s in the middle of our problems whether we like it or not. I told you I needed space from you. I don’t know how long that is. Luke was bound to read the room eventually and I’d rather have it now than later.”

“Well that’s nice of you, Faaya. It’s super mature and thoughtful.” The sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed. “You know, you’re a real arsehole. I’ve bitten my tongue about it for years because yeah, sometimes the pros outweighed the cons and I used to think, you know what, ‘yeah Phobos made her like this.’ But we’ve reached the point where it’s all just you and it’s inexcusable.”

The onslaught from Bentley was harsh and only filled with truths. It left Faaya speechless.

He continued. “I can’t believe I told you I wanted to kill myself and instead of giving a shit about me, you’re just worried about how it makes you feel. You’re scared about living in a world without me? About caring too much? About you not being enough for me? Well it’s all true and it’s all your own fault.” Bentley was breathing hard, getting it all off his chest. A fist was clenched at his side and his scolding glower was burning holes into her. “You’re a bad friend, Faaya. You’re a worse person. I wish we’d never met. You’re not someone meant to have friends. You don’t have the heart for it.” [6:04 PM] “No, I don’t, Bentley.” Faaya’s eyes narrowed on him as she crossed her arms. As true as it was, attacks were the only thing she knew how to handle. Efficiently and devastatingly. “So don’t bother me again and I won’t bother you.”

Brushing past him, Faaya didn’t feel so sick anymore. She didn’t feel anything, and she wouldn’t. Bentley was right. Certain and solid, Faaya just wasn’t meant to care about anyone else, but herself. It was what she defaulted on anytime the choice had to be made. Siding with Ares had been for her own control. Stealing her biological mother’s abilities had been her own rage. Everything Faaya did was with herself in mind. Being vulnerable had only lead to suffering to her and those around her. There was no reason to fight it now that was clear. [6:04 PM] [ SCENE CHANGE ]

“My kid’s not that much of a bad influence.”

“Bad or not, he was still too much of an influence.” Phobos rolled his shoulder. It’d been a very productive afternoon. “Faaya doesn’t really do well being held back by shit like that.”

Deimos raised a brow. “She can’t be a ‘real natural’ if you have to get involved with her life so much.”

Phobos scoffed, shaking his head. “That’s what parents do, don’t they? Make sure their kids doing the best they can? Faaya wasn’t gonna get anywhere if I left her to her own devices. Besides, I let her have her fun. She’s gotta grow up now. Childhood friends have gotta go. Fuck sentimentality. And I’m bored of the Dayn phase. He’s with Athena now anyway. We just don’t need any of the useless shit.”

Kids always liked making their own mistakes and Phobos let Faaya make those for awhile, but she was better than that and she needed a little push. She’d already been fearing everything he’d showed her, he was just hammering the nail on the head.

“And have you considered the stars of your horror show making a real appearance and countering the events of all your hard work, Phobos?” Deimos asked feigning disinterest, but the slight curl to his lip said otherwise.

“Maybe if you spent more time with your children, you would know them better. Faaya really is a daddy’s girl.”

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spacegaywritings · 3 years

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“Cry for Help” - Bad Therapists have a special Place in Hell

Summary: Logan suffers from invalidating himself so much, he ends up hurting himself. Emile tells him that if he wants to die, to just have the courage to do it. Tags: u! emile, bad therapists, mental health issues, depression, invalidating mental illness, suicidal thoughts, stress, guilt tripping, rejection pains, cry out for help, therapeutical inattention, suicide baiting, offensive language, literally Emile is such a piece of shiT, nobody gets hope for him - not even as a treat. “too rich to suffer” mentality Disclaimer: writing based on subjective experiences based on therapy, mental health issues and (LOCAL) stigmas. You might have better/worse/different experiences with your struggles and how they were perceived and treated. Your culture or surroundings might have different bias. This is for venting and does not objectively apply to everyone’s experience of their mental illness or struggles. Check out my Masterlist for my fics! // My KoFi - Support me ♥ or Commission me

Note: If you miss any tags, have issues with links or any other concerns, please feel free to contact me. Anon is on and my DMs are open.♥

Links broken? Inform me, please!

Overview of this series on tumblr / ao3.

Story under the cut // 2,1k words.

The sun was going down.

Fading rays illuminated the office, barely gifting it any more warmth. The sun was still shining but it disappeared behind the city buildings. The sun rays were so long, they reached the earth in a wide stretch.

It was cold, even colder than the office usually seemed. The practice has white walls only, was in a multi-story building. Small, humble.

The man sitting there, tie and collar adjusted, gazed upon the his wrist. A fancy, silver wristband hugged his limb and decorated his arm. The precious feature was slim, a bit of metallic colour to it. The watch’s fingers moved. Moved. Rhythmically moved and moved more.

He looked back at the office. Logan liked it.

Still, there was a certain feeling of unease coming with the white walls staring him down. They were surrounding him, almost as if to inch in and corner him, trap him.

He checked his watch, then the room.

The wooden door opened with a swing and a small figure danced into the place. He was not actually dancing, Logan noted to himself, but the light feet and easy tapping reminded him of the grace dancers showed when appearing on stage.

While the therapist had more heaviness in his movements and was not as impressive, his entrance had granted him a bit of Logan’s attention.

“Hello! You must be Logan! I am glad you made it through the traffic. It gets really busy in these streets, especially since we are so close to town.”

He stood up to greet the man. Emile turned around to close the door properly and looked at Logan. Upon seeing him, he stretched out his hand and beamed at the slightly taller client.

“Good afternoon, doctor. Yes, I am Logan”, he took his hand, a slight smile appearing on his thin lips. It was come and gone like the sun. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

The doctor giggled, as if bringing up his title gifted him with another swirl of happiness in his swinging body. He returned to the door, facing it and turning on clinically white lights.

Cold white.

They were not the warm kind of lights people would love to see in fairy lights. They were everywhere and seemed to illuminate Logan like a test object in a scientific experiment. Had the room been made more transparent, Logan would have made this connection for sure.

“Please, have a seat. Recliner or couch, whatever is more comfortable to you.”

Logan nodded and chose the couch.

The dying rays of lights seemed to reach out for him too much. At this moment, he did not desire the sun’s caresses on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

The therapist placed himself on his own seat and took out his clipboard, his legs crossing.

“Now, you probably already know this but I am doctor Emile Picani and I am your therapist. I am here to help you today to see whether we two are a fit to work together - or whether you need someone else or nobody at all! I mean, who knows!”

He chuckled and Logan rose an eyebrow but nodded.

The man was a scientist himself. He was a doctor, he was one of the youngest doctors in the world, working in a research laboratory. So he knew his way around science, he loved and observed things and he loved to mess around with theories and figure out more things about physics but at the same time, he did not know too much about psychology.

Maybe therapy was not for everybody? Emile was a expert. He should know better.

“Now, what issue brought you here today?”

The man in black and blue blinked as if to process the question. His mind was producing words, inventing phrases and trying to put together just how exactly he found himself looking for therapy.

“Nothing is right, I think”, he started but cleared his throat. His face twitched for a moment, “Let me explain this. My life is right. I have a stable job and earn a lot of money. I have friends, family and they re nice and loving. They are present, yet I feel like.. I have never accomplished anything.”

He sighed.

“But you did..?”

Logan nodded.

“It is paradoxical, I know. I have so much and feel so little. It is as if nothing ever mattered.”

The therapist started noting down words. Logan heard the scratching and slowly turned his head away.

“Interesting.. How do you feel about your parents?”

The man shrugged in a non-committal way.

“We are in contact. We regularly meet and spend time together. Everything is sorted out. I had a rather normal life and childhood, I suppose.”

Emile nodded.

“Do you have any hobbies? Are there things you enjoy?”

Logan adjusted his glasses despite their position remaining the same in the end.

“I do enjoy educating myself on different topics such as astronomy, literature and other things. I also do relish in making plans, reading or meeting my friends every now and then. I have a healthy diety, composed by my dietician and regularly attend to gym in order to sustain physical health.”

“Uh-uhu..”, Emile mumbled, trailing off.

The pen was scratching harder, it was louder and faster than before. Like kids trying to keep track of everything the teacher said after “this will be on the test”.

“Very interesting. Thank you for all the input. I have the feeling the issue is pretty clear, so let me put this on the table.”

Logan nodded.

His knees snapped together but not a single fibre in his face moved. His shoulders pulled up into a more tense state but he remained as stone-faced as before.

The therapist cleared his throat for the dramatic effect.

“I think you might be blowing your issues a bit out of proportion. As you mentioned before, you have a completely satisfying life and are happy with it. What else is there to worry about, I mean - I saw the car you came in and it does not look like a lot of issues are parked in the front of my practice.”

Logan felt his chest tighten but remained composed. His breathing had stopped. The whole body was completely motionless and something within him froze.

“Doctor Picani, I value your input but I think you might be missing an important point I am making. Life has no value to me. My own life has no value to me. Waking up or not - it is all just the same and feels exactly the same. I want to die, doctor.”

The therapist took the information with a smile on his cheeky face. Logan could feel his insides twitching in discomfort but he tried to stop himself, stop his mind from judging. He did not know anything about psychology but he was sure to be in good “hands” with Emile. Metaphorically speaking. Reactively, the gears in his brain slowed down. Instead of evaluating the message, he was firm on taking it all in first.

He took a shallow breath in, nodding to let the doctor speak. Emile took the word with gratitude and awarded Logan with another uncomfortable smile.

“Are you making this up right now? I have grounds to believe you are being a little bit.. extra.. with me, right now.”

Logan blinked.

No.

Try to suspend judgement. It might just be a harsh sentence and a much more gentle evaluation. He was sure about this. This was a professional person after all.

“Listen to me, listen close. You did not give me even a single reason for you to be upset or depressed and it sounds a teensy tiny bit as if you are looking for attention. If you want to pay me for attention, you can buy my time but I am certainly not as cheap as other people you could hire for a quick visit and an hour of talking.”

As Logan’s mother used to say “after rejection, there is wrath”, Logan shook his head, his facial features pulling together like a mask of wrath.

Though.. when he spoke, there was a cold, calm anger spiking in his words. They unravelled like flowers opening ever so slowly after a rainy shower.

“Doctor Picani, I beg your pardon but I am a man telling you I have a death wish. I am describing how painful and bland life seems to me and you are responding by invalidating my concerns?”

The therapist shrugged.

“You would be fun to analyse”, he commented with a tinge or sarcasm biting at Logan’s hot arms, “You are coming here, telling me you have a great life and nothing to worry about, yet you are worried about not feeling anything? Maybe YOU are the problem for taking things for granted, for taking for family and everything for granted. Maybe you yourself are at fault for whining so much, when you literally have a perfect life.”

He cleared his throat and got up, staring at Logan with a power in his glare. Nobody could have imagined the sweet little twink in pink to be such a menace of conservatism in one bundle of pastel colours and joyful giggles.

Who laughed at their clients anyway?

“You say the problem is that I am whining, you say? So I caused my own dilemma?”

Logan sat back down, as if to admit defeat. His wandered over his chest when he crossed his arms before his heart but he retreated his limbs at once and exposed his vulnerable yet hurting core.

“Basically yes. This is okay, I will tell you how to solve it! Life is not for everybody but if you try a bit to think of yourself and others in a more grateful way, you might be able to overcome any kind of weird mood or thoughts you might have! Now, you just sit down with me and close your eyes. Tell me why your friends make you happy?”

The addressed man shrugged.

His heart was empty.

“Maybe they do not make me happy. I do not feel happy. I feel delighted every now and then but actual happiness sounds like a lie. My friends make me forget about these things and ease me up a bit but it is nothing but temporary bliss at most. I think you might be on the wrong track with me, doctor. With all due respect, you are making me feel quite worse.”

The therapist laughed, no, he sneered. He made fun of Logan and shook his hair as if to feel every bit of criticism the other doctor had brought up to him.

“You, mister, are an exemplary case of arrogance. I think you are exceeding our time at this session now”, he kicked the shelf with a clock on it and brutally pushed the fingers into place.

Logan glanced at his own watch before calmly facing the man again.

“If you wanted to die, you would have already done so. I don’t think you need my admiration in order to feel any better. You need to get your head out of your ass and live a little. Be spontaneous and give away control and you might not be too stuck up to smile, once in your life.”

He sighed and pointed at the door. His other hand brushed through his hair. The clock started ringing like a hyperactive cock not understanding the difference between sunrise and sunset.

Logan slowly got up, adjusting his tie and shirt.

“Good day, doctor Picani. It was an interesting encounter.”

Logan left, as soundless as his car engine when he took off.

Emile looked out of the window.

There was only one more patient left for the day. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ End Note: This is not how a therapist should treat you. If someone treats you or your issues like that, please make sure you leave immediately and report this. A real therapist will validate your concerns and try to redirect your thoughts. If you have mental health issues, please reach out for help. Suicidal thoughts are no fun and should not be joked about lightly. If you suffer from them, please reach out for help. There are numbers and organisations out there to help you and support you. You WILL be missed by people you would not expect you to miss.These thoughts can have several different causes. It makes sense to contact a GP and work with a therapist and even psychiatrist if needed. If it is intense, please consider a psych ward or similar institutions in order to keep yourself SAFE. Your well-being matters!You do not need a certain age, trauma or circumstance in order to develop mental health issues. Aversive Childhood Experiences (ACEs) increase the risk but it depends on many more. Don’t let anyone invalidate your needs. If you need help, you usually know yourself best and understand life is harder than it should be. Keep looking for the adequate support you deserve and need!

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