being aroace and a hopeless romantic feels like an infinite cycle of unmet expectations and withering dreams.
i think the hardest part of accepting that i wasn't only ace but also aro was precisely burying the life i dreamt for me. burying that one dream that, at some point, i might find someone to love... romantically speaking. being aroace has taught me just why i always take friendship breakups so hard. why i always feel neglected within my friendships because i always put them first, but i will always come second because romantic partners will always come first. and don't get me wrong: i am beyond ecstatic that my friends, slowly, have come to find people that cherish them just like they deserve to be. i am truly, genuinely, so excited to see my friends being loved like that.
it's just also terribly lonely. because i know that's a love i won't ever experience. even if i dreamt at some point of getting married or just have someone i can rely on like that, it's just not happening. and grieving those experiences have exhausted me in many ways—ways that i cannot tell my friends because, even if they tried to understand, they can't. they can only see that i avoid relationships and dates like the plague. that i find comfort in fictional characters, and books, and videogames, and music, but never, ever, on a significant someone.
one of my best friends said to me, while on the subject of visual novels and otome games, that i didn't feel the need to look for a boyfriend because these pixels, these games, satisfied all of my emotional needs. maybe she was right. i haven't played an otome game in almost a year, but maybe she was onto something. we were both fresh out of highschool when she said that. maybe they did satisfy my needs for romance or whatever it is. maybe they also made me feel lonelier. maybe that's why i daydream so much of being in a world that is not this one—a world where someone loves me, and i love them, and maybe, if timing is right, i would love them so much that bringing a kid into this world wouldn't seem so much like a nightmare and more like the right choice. ♡
27 notes
·
View notes
Not gonna do a full analysis but --
something something Jure "the band is my better half" Maček
Jure who's been the most outspoken (to my knowledge) that he's not looking for a relationship. That he doesn't have a girlfriend and doesn't want one. That he chooses hookups.
Something something sex appeal and yet here, half-naked, he's just himself, surrounded by the band
Something something Jan and Nace getting lost in each other, their shots mirroring each other something something Jure choosing the band but different from the way Jan and Nace chose each other in the photo shoot
121 notes
·
View notes
god. ik usually its ghost who doesnt believe hes lovable but fuck does the thought of soap not thinking hes lovable get me.
like. he believes hes too much to love. he believes he isnt worthy of someones love. he hasnt worked hard enough or done enough to warrant it.
because all his life he's needed to complete a goal to be told hes done good, or needed to reach a milestone to be told that someones proud of him, or that he needs to make someone happy before they love him. and if he disappoints that person, its back to square one. hes only loved when hes good. and no matter how fucking hard he tried as a kid, he was rarely ever good enough.
when he hit his teens, he stopped trying as hard. mainly with the people he didnt care about. teachers, store owners, police- authority in general.
with people he liked, he behaved. he never disrespected the kind old lady who lived down the street from him. she always gave him a candy when she saw him walking home from school, accompanying it with a joking finger in front of her lips and a quiet 'shh!' as though she would get in trouble for offering the candy, instead of him for taking it. he was always nice to his friends and most of his peers, and they never took his sarcastic jabs as serious and they even threw their own back at him (though sometimes he worried that they were being serious about them.)
he could never fully shake the desire to try and make his parents proud, no matter how hard he tried to hate them. they were his parents, he had to love them, right? that was how it worked. everyone loved their parents, unless they were shitty. and his parents werent shitty! they were just raising him how he should be raised. they never hurt him or yelled at him, just gave him disappointed looks and asked why he didnt get an A+ instead of the A he had gotten.
even if he didnt like his teachers, he always tried his best to do good work. he studied and got good grades and never openly disrespected them. he always insulted them in ways that could be insults, ways that could be taken as them misinterpreting his actions or words. he was always nice to the cafeteria workers and the principal and the staff at the front desk, everyone who mattered, at least in terms of avoiding punishment. if the teachers complained, he could plead his case of not meaning it the way they took it, and the principal thought he was a delight, so they tended to take his side because seemed like he could do no wrong.
(he didnt think that the cafeteria workers could really get him in trouble- he just didnt think they deserved another rude kid picking on them when some of his schoolmates already did that. they didnt do anything wrong. and they usually gave him an extra bit of his favorites for being kind. they were nice.)
his disrespect carried him through the military. he barely managed to scrape by after he punched that one dickhead, but he lucked out.
then he met price, then he joined the taskforce, and then he had people he liked. people he wanted to make proud. so he was good. he treated price with respect, he joked around with gaz, flirted with ghost.
he wasnt sure that last one counted as good, but the man didnt seem to mind it and sometimes he got ghost to flirt back at him, which felt almost just as good as someone being proud of him, so he (selfishly) kept doing it.
he was ok with the light words of affirmation and the pats on the back from his teammates and the occasional hair ruffle he got from price. god, was he okay with the few "nice work, sergeant"s and the "good job, johnny"s from ghost.
but he could tell, he knew, he wasnt doing enough to be fucking loved. he kept trying. did the best he could on his missions, (every injury sustained by his fellow soldiers felt like a bullet in his own heart, another failure to the tally,) he trained the rookies how he was told, (he made sure to tell them they were doing good work after a hard day, even if ghost gave him a strange look he couldnt decipher every time he did,) he filed his paperwork, (even when he was frustrated to tears at how he couldnt fucking focus on the words and he couldnt figure out what they wanted from him-) he did everything right-
and it fucking got to him. hes gone years without it, hes been fine. but now he fucking cares about his teammates and he wants and he knows that he wants too fucking much but he cant stop.
he doesnt even bother with wrapping his hands before he hits the punching bag. he doesnt stop when his hands hurt. he doesnt pay attention when his fingers bleed. he doesnt hear the person speaking behind him, but he does notice when a hand grabs his wrists and turns him to face them.
ghost stares at him with eyes just as wide as his own.
954 notes
·
View notes