#it's literally all downhill since kindergarten

[kendrene]

Avatrice + “Ineptly kiss cheek”

(Also I love your writing)

Ava never lingered much on the concept of water before Beatrice taught her to swim. She’s come to learn since that each body of water is different. Wind blows down from the nearby mountains and fluffs the surface of the lake with its touch. The public pool at the end of their street every single afternoon — weekends excluded — hosts a miniature tsunami; 3pm sharp, the end of daily kindergarten summer camp.

The stream they’re resting next to is overseen by gravity. 

Ava spends a solid fifteen minutes crouching on the edge of it, watching water race downhill. Vortexes and whirlpools form where the stream runs deeper, foam laps at the bigger rocks. The stream sometimes forces a path through them, sometimes hops right past. 

“Take off your shoes and come in!” Beatrice bends down, splashing a little wave in her direction. “The water is nice, I promise.”

“The water is cold.”

“If you come here I’ll teach you to fish.”

Ava frowns, making a mental inventory of everything that’s in the rucksack Bea had her lug all the way up here. Nope. No fishing equipment.

“We have no fishing poles or bait.”

“All you need is your hands, Ava.”

Beatrice is gonna teach her some kung-fu level shit. Hell yeah. She’s in. 

Literally.

//

The water is cold, as the chill rising from it to sting Ava’s cheeks had her guess rightly. It’s colder than expected. She wades upstream to where Bea is waiting, the soles of her feet slipping over smooth rock until her flesh is solid pins and needles. The numbness makes it somewhat bearable to copy Beatrice’s stance, body braced against the swiftness of the current, but only just.

“Okay. I’m here. Now what?” Ava wiggles toes she can no longer feel and peers under the clear surface of the water. It’s like observing the world through a piece of warped glass; her feet still attached, but kind of the wrong shape. She wonders, briefly, whether they’re starting to turn a shade of blue. It’s a trick of the light, splicing through water. Maybe.

“The fish, do you see them?” 

It takes a few moments for Ava to notice the first. Slim shape threading like a silver needle through a tapestry of water. There’s more; a school of them camped in the shade of jutting rocks a few steps away.

“So you want to make sure not to shadow the water.” Beatrice bends her knees slightly as she talks, shifts first one foot, then the other, careful not to cause any ripples. “Fish will notice and dart where you can’t catch them, if you do.” 

Ava can see what she means, how she positions herself so that her shadow, while stretching big over the water at her back, does so away from where the fishes gather. “Once you’re in position, you wanna dip your hands in slowly. Like this.” Beatrice’s fingers break through the water tension, and she lowers her voice to a barely audible whisper. “And then—” Beatrice makes a scooping motion. The fish scatter. Except for the one that she’s holding, steady, with both of her hands. “Here.” She lets the fish go. “Now you try.”

Ava tries.

Again.

Again.

Again.

//

“Ava we should head back. It’s getting late.”

“Just one more try?” Ava’s legs are numb all the way to her thighs. Her hands are red, the skin of her fingers wrinkled from having spent so much time underwater. Her shirt is soaked through. “I swear I almost had the last one.” From the grassy streambank Beatrice looks at her, doubtful. “Please, Bea?”

“One last try.” Bea finally agrees, and Ava has to hide a quick grin. “I mean it Ava.” Beatrice adds, like she knows exactly what Ava is thinking.

“Okay. Alright.” Ava totters back upstream, shielding her eyes against the setting sun. Orange-soft light hits the water at an angle, making it hard to see what lies under the surface. Not that it makes much of a difference. Even when she could see the fish, Ava didn’t catch shit.

One last try. She pulls in a breath, holds it and feels her heart slow. Feels Beatrice’s gaze on her like a tangible weight, a hand cupping her cheek. Her whole face heats up, and to offset the sudden flush Ava plunges her hands in the water. 

One attempt. 

She’s got to make it count.

Something smooth and quick bumps against the curl of her fingers right as the day ends. Her hand closes, reflexively, pulling in and up the way Beatrice had shown her.

“I got it!” Ava lifts the squirming fish over her head with a laugh. “Bea, look! I caught one!” 

“So I see.” Bea stands. Stretches. A smile teases at the corner of her lips, rivaling the setting sun for brightness. “You did good.”

“Don’t worry, lil guy.” Ava cradles the fish gently. “I’m gonna put you back into the water now. But first—” She brings the wriggling form to her face and kisses it quickly. “I kiss you goodbye.”

“Ava!”

“What?” Letting the fish go, Ava clambers out of the water. “Wait, are you jealous? Because I can kiss you, too, you know.”

“Ava, st—”

Before Beatrice can complete the sentence, Ava has reached her. She means the kiss to be just an innocent peck on Bea’s cheek, but her wet feet make the grass slippery. Ava falls forward. Beatrice catches her.

Ava kisses her right on the mouth. Neither of them break away.

Oh.

Fuck.

#warrior nun #avatrice #fishing au #switzerland era #my beloved #dren writes

[iwantescapism13]

'Mother of Olms' - Sigh.

This half-episode mostly concentrated on the idea of “one might be old, but knowledge is what makes them above the younger generation”. It's a good message. I love the interactions between Hop-Pop and Mother Olm. They're wholesome old creatures.

It's just... not something I'd like to see in the last part of the series. And especially not in an episode where I thought it would cover a lot more than just the prophecy.

Again, under the cut would be my opinions regarding this episode and it would be mostly (if not all) negative. If you're interested to know, go and have a read.

If not, see you guys next week for my review of the super anticipated episode.

----

Alex was right in mentioning that this season would be a rollercoaster.

3B started off with the supposed last episode of 3A. The bar was set so high due to Anne's awesome display of her version of brains and brawn. She was smart (although the plan failed) and tough (the lightsaber scene was the highlight). Then the series proceeded with the correct first episode of 3B, where she's finally back in Amphibia. The graph line went downhill so fast due to the massive failure in keeping Anne's characterization consistent with ‘Escape to Amphibia’. Then ‘Sasha's Angels’ and ‘Olm Town Road’ aired and the graph line increased this time, but not as high.

And then... we got ‘Mother of Olms’ and the graph line just went in a zig-zag direction.

Sigh.

About 7-8 minutes(?) of the episode were wasted to show the gross comedy of applying cream inside Mother Olms’ brain (that the characters would have to go through her freaking EARS in order to go there *gags*) to make her remember the prophecy. It was... super disgusting. I hated it so much that I tried not to look away (because I need to watch the episode), but I just couldn’t.

The only time I forced myself to look back at the screen was when they mentioned “Dr. Yohan” (which was something I was very happy about because that’s another way to pronounce my real name and basically I WAS MENTIONED IN AMPHIBIA).

But anyway.

These scenes reminded me of some of the Season 1 episodes. Why are we still seeing these kinds of scenarios at this point of time? Why is it that whenever Marcy is being mentioned, it just comes off as a passing remark and nothing else?

It feels... so... odd, somehow.

What is Amphibia trying to do here? Why is Marcy being put off to the sidelines so much that NOT EVEN HER BEST FRIENDS are shown worried as fuck? I wouldn’t expect anything from Sasha, honestly... but Anne? Her best friend since kindergarten (probably)? Like... what... the... fuck? Season 3A has come and gone, she’s now back in Amphibia, and still NOTHING? WHY??

If it’s for the sake of punching our guts when Marcy finally appears in an episode, I swear to god--

Just for comparison’s sake, Season 1 ended with Sasha almost dying. Anne was shown to have cried her eyes out even after she knew that Sasha was okay. She was shown to be “depressed” and clearly affected by this by Season 2 Episode 1. If I were one of the fans who watched Season 2 as it aired back then, would I have felt the same way as what I’m feeling right now towards Season 3 because Sasha wasn’t mentioned again?

No.

Because Anne, AT THE VERY LEAST, acknowledged it.

She reacted to the situation.

The thing is, Marcy... literally... DIED. We need to highlight that fact.

And Anne didn’t react as much. She didn’t even fucking cry, for fuck’s sake.

“Denial”, people said. ‘Denial’ of what? That Marcy’s dead? So she knew, but she’s just trying not to address it? BUT WHY NOT? Why put it off? Why have her motivations to open the portal be about JUST getting the Plantars back? Why was it that the only time she ever cried and broke down in 3A was when she was leaving her parents? Why the fuck did she seemingly sigh in relief at hearing that Marcy’s alive but just captured? Why isn’t she panicking and trying to come up with a way to rescue her best friend?

Let me just remind everyone as well that there was a point where Anne went all the way to her school on a weekend just to save Marcy from a bunch of snakes. I’m not even talking about shipping here. I’m just straight up saying that as a BEST FRIEND who would (probably) do ANYTHING to protect the other best friend, she should be feeling more than just simply sigh in relief and move on. If anything, I thought Anne would be more careless because the thought of Marcy still being alive BUT CAPTURED was still worrying. Anne should be panicking, making rash decisions - that could be a good alternative plot point for 'Commander Anne' - and Sasha would be the voice of reason. Sasha would say something like “we need to slow down, take King Andrias’ forces bit by bit until he’s too weak AND THEN we save Marcy” - that bit of dialogue would have been enough of an indication and then they can continue with whatever shenanigans they want to do. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so pissed or frustrated or disappointed as I am now because at least it was ADDRESSED.

In this episode, I had hoped... that this would bring up some of Anne’s reasons for feeling the way she feels about the whole Marcy situation.

I had hoped... that she would talk about it.

I had hoped... that Mother Olm would sense that one of the destined people were missing.

But no.

These are all the things we got (aside from the gross stuff in the beginning which I will not comment):

Me, throughout Season 3B so far.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh Sasha... you’re such a cute thing.

I’m glad you acknowledge that there’s 3 of you. I mean, sure. Marcy definitely exists somewhere in your mind. But with the lack of worry, I’m beginning to think you guys have forgotten about her.

This... was too uncharacteristically childish, even for Sasha. I don't know. But, in another way, I guess it’s good that she’s finally acting like a 13-year-old for once?

I feel like this is just a wholesome comment. You know, like... old people agreeing just so that you'll be happy but they don't really know what you're talking about? I don't know...

Excuse me?? I thought you were able to? In ‘Escape to Amphibia’, you didn’t faint even after you used your powers AND you were able to cut a fucking avocado with your motherfucking eyes-- AGH GODDAMN IT ALL!

It IS rather interesting that the mural at Mother Olm’s door shows Anne, Sasha, and Marcy (or at the very least, figures that look suspiciously like them) as if they had been prophesized since a long time ago. Speaking of, Mother Olm actually didn’t address that. It’s a shame... if only she remembered a bit more, she could have elaborated more.

What, they're gonna defeat Amphibia's worst self with the power of friendship? Hmm... I do wonder how Anne is going to pass her powers off. If the show wants to go through the polycule route (in which they definitely wouldn't), a kiss is probably the way to go. But story-wise, it's probably about letting go of something or even acknowledging or talking about something. Anne was able to get her powers back through the intense emotion of grief over Sprig basically falling to his death. Sasha is still going through her redemption arc, so maybe hers would be about talking to Anne regarding "their emotional baggage". And for Marcy... sigh... she's still currently possessed. One twist I would like is that she'll be getting back her powers while in the mindscape because this is secretly what she wants to be - basically, accepting the person that she doesn't want people to see her as. She didn't ask to be a Straight-A student - she only worked hard because her parents put emphasis on it (as Asian parents do). I'm a believer that Marcy is actually an unhinged person, but she's holding off... for reasons. And The Core will take that fact to its advantage.

I guess it’s valid for Anne to be curious as to why THEY had to be the one stuck to this world and not anyone else. I wonder if she’s beginning to think that all this may not necessarily be Marcy’s fault, since they have been destined to be here.

Olms are really just the embodiment of passiveness at this point. They will never participate in wars or do anything to make any changes to what they’re comfortable in. Interestingly, this might be the reason why we only get to see the olms as side characters... because Amphibia (the series) is all about ‘change’. If they want to stay in a time and place where they can live peacefully without getting involved in anything, then they’re not really... “growing”, per se. Do you guys get what I mean? And this also explains Parisia’s attitude towards any outsiders or how the olms’ way of doing things is not giving creatures a second chance or it could even explain the olms just agreeing to whatever Parisia said without thinking of any alternatives. They’re one-track-minded, but it’s this one-track-mindedness that got them to live until a thousand years. They were never involved in anything, so they thrived and survived. But at the same time, they are unaware of what’s happening in the surface. Other than the fact that they cannot get out due to sunlight, olms are just... pretty much “myths”, as Grime said.

It checks out. King Andrias mentioned in ‘True Colors’ that his ancestors were “glorious conquerors”. And about that “unnatural thing” - it's a robot. A robot that contains Amphibia's greatest minds. The Core, obviously. Yeah... I thought she’d talk a little bit more about this. But no. That’s it. Let the characters figure it out for themselves behind the scenes, I guess. Or even better, let the fans interpret it on their own and come up with an entire story since that’s how incomplete all of these are at the moment. But fine. I can forgive Mother Olm. She’s just an old amphibian, living underground for who knows how long. And anyway, amphibians don't actually know what a robot is, thus explaining the “cryptic” way of describing it. The proof for this is Mrs. Croaker’s reaction to Sasha's confession in ‘Turning Point’ (in which, she asked what a robot was).

Again, insinuating that it isn’t Marcy’s fault. They were just DESTINED to be here. That music box WAS supposed to work. Because it’s them. They were the chosen ones for this story. They had a purpose. 

----

I like that the episode tackled the prophecy (as it should, since that was we expect this episode was going to be about), but I didn’t like how short it was. This prophecy thing only took about, what, 5 minutes of the entire half-episode? I thought they’d cover more than just that. And it’s interesting that Mother Olm immediately knows there’s 3 of them, when the only ones who showed up were Anne and Sasha. Why didn’t she ask about Marcy? Who the fuck knows.

Anyway, I give this episode a 6/10.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #Amphibia Season 3B Review #i detest the beginning parts of this episode #but sasha was hilarious #characterization of anne was still not great #i have nothing else to add

[shkspr]

re: that post about weird little girl traits, i have to make a separate post to talk about how weird i was as a kid bc there's so much in terms of personality and also isolated incidents that were symptomatic of weirdgirl syndrome, and i'm obsessed w analyzing my former self like a germ under a michael scope..

starting w repeating my tag on that post: for several months i regularly (not all the time, but frequently) drew a mole on my lip and spoke in an incredibly shitty (bc i was seven) english accent and insisted that i was my evil twin olivia. when i was in olivia mode i would only respond to olivia, never my actual name.

also on the subject of names: for a while in elementary school i decided that i didn't like my name (or my dad) and didn't want to write it on school papers, so i wrote my middle name (which my mom wanted to be my first name) and my mom's maiden name instead.

i took swimming lessons with two teachers, a woman and a man, and i called them mommy and daddy

the first full sentence that i spoke aloud was "father, i don't particularly prefer what mother has prepared for dinner this evening." this is 100% true and both of my parents will back me up on it.

i taught myself to read when i was three and it's all been downhill since then, tbh. related: i skipped kindergarten and then my first grade teacher sometimes let me do the read aloud for the class bc i hated being read to i thought it was patronizing and i was a bitch about it. also related: i can't not mention the fact that i was six years old when i first read jane eyre and i imprinted on the book and on her as a character like a tiny baby duckling.

when we had to write creative fiction in class i wrote a story about Dictionary Brown, girl cousin of Encyclopedia Brown. it was very my immortal, though of course not nearly on the same level. she lived in hawaii and the first and only mystery she took on was when a badger with rainbow fur washed up on the beach (alive) and she had to get to the bottom of where it came from. she did not get to the bottom of it.

when we were eight, my brother and i decided to write a novel together. it was about twelve-year-old twin sisters who were princesses and they had a brother who was two years old, and their dad, the king, was old and dying but he was a misogynist so he refused to let his (very mature and capable, to us, bc we were eight) daughters succeed him but the baby was too little so there was a regent but ofc he was straight up evil. so our intrepid preteen heroes had to go on a quest to find their mom, bc that makes sense. also they kidnapped the baby and took him along for the ride.

this one needs backstory, so. my mom had my oldest brother in 1994 and wanted another kid as soon as possible but it was really difficult and she had multiple miscarriages and then one baby who was stillborn before she had me, the miracle child who survived a whole entire pregnancy. and she was very open about this when we were growing up, so i knew that i could have had a sister (i couldn't have really, bc if she was alive then i wouldn't have been conceived, the timing doesn't line up but i didn't know that, i just knew i wanted a sister and my mom almost had another girl before me) anyway the Point of this all is that my "imaginary friend" as a child was literally the ghost of my dead sister. and i told people about her whenever i could.

every time i saw a dead bird or mouse or whatever outside i wanted to hold a funeral and bury it. usually an adult was there to tell me we were not going to do that, but i got away with actually doing it once, when i was like nine (old enough that i could go outside without direct supervision) and i buried a bird in our "Front Garden" which was a small rectangle of dirt next to our front steps. i did not bury it deep enough, and the smell was simply abhorrent.

i made witch soups outside, obviously, but i also made witch soups inside. like, actual soups made from food items, but without any knowledge of or regard for what would make it "Good." the most memorable one was made from chicken broth, sriracha, peanut butter, pickles, peas, and a garnish of chives and clover, both of which were pulled from the ground and unwashed. i did not eat the soup.

i was so pedantic and stubborn that my fourth grade teacher told me i should be a lawyer (derogatory) and when we did little mock debates in sixth grade social studies i argued that banning skateboards and roller skates and the like from downtown sidewalks would set off a domino effect that would lead to many people dying, and my poor teacher cut the debate short and gave me the victory over my poor classmate bc, quote, "we're running out of time and [me, peej] is giving me a headache"

in the eighth grade (i was Twelve Years Old.) i asked for a small stuffed monkey for my birthday. he was maybe eight inches from head to toe, and i made him a little crown and brought him to school and sat him on the corner of my desk during every class and i made my classmates refer to him as Prince Steve. again, this was mere months before i started high school.

#long post #ok to rb #neurodivergent kid things lol #theres a few things i know need tagging but idk the exact terms so if you have a different word or phrase blacklisted im sorry #and please lmk so i can tag that instead! but for now the tags im going with are: #animal death / #miscarriage / #stillbirth / #morbid / #food /

[jimlingss]

The President’s Son [18]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 100% Fluff, Slice of Life, Bodyguard!AU

➜ Summary: Kim Taehyung is the President’s son, mischievous and playful, and infamous for being a troublemaker. When everyone’s given up, they call for you to be his personal guard. There’s no other choice when your dad’s assigned you to it and surprisingly Taehyung doesn’t mind either. Maybe because you happened to grow up with that brat.

It’s still fresh in your memory.   You remember your feet cold against the floors, gripping your nightie in a tight fist, nudging the big door just enough to look through the crack. You had brushed your hair behind your ear, scared of being scolded for looking like such a mess. But before you could stumble back into the darkness, you had caught his eye and he turned his head.    “I thought I told you to go to bed.”   You grip the fabric in your hand tighter. “Is mommy home?”   Your father doesn’t answer you, merely glancing out the window for a moment before he sets the glass in his hand down onto his desk. He slumps onto the sofa that’s pushed against the wall and you take the invitation to come into his office.    He looks down at your legs. “What happened?”   You follow his line of sight to your bruised knees before hesitantly meeting his eyes again. “I fell.”   You didn’t — someone pushed you at kindergarten today. Maybe he knows about it. It’s not good to lie, but you don’t wanna tell the truth either. He would be happy though. You got up and didn’t cry at all.   Like you guessed, he asks point-blank, “Did someone do that?”   He’s smart. Your dad’s very smart. So, you wonder why mom would wanna go and not come back. It might be your fault, but you tried your hardest to be a good girl and you didn’t cause any trouble.   “No.”   Your dad scans you up and down, the same way he looks at you when you get to pick out your own clothes before school and come out all ready and dressed. But this time, he seems sad.    You don’t know why.   “Go to bed.” He finally turns away. “We’re going somewhere bright and early tomorrow.”   You know better than to ask questions, so you nod, slowly padding out of his office and making sure to close the door behind you. Your feet scatter against the tiles before racing up the stairs, scared that monsters in the dark will get you if you look around or stay for too long. The covers are pulled above your head once you make it and you fall asleep staring at the closet that might have skeletons.   In the morning and after some cereal for breakfast, dad takes you to the dojo — it’s like the gym at school, but with wooden floors and mats, and kids older than you practicing. They’re punching the air and kicking mats that others hold. You watch them before dad brings you away.   “What are we doing?”   “Seokjin, can you come here for a moment?” Dad calls out and an older kid comes running forward, bowing his head. He’s taller than you, bigger, bright eyes and dark hair. You don’t have a lot of time to look at him. “Shove her for me.”   “Sir!” His head spins around, eyes wide.   You don’t get it.   But dad looks stern and the student is forced to comply, doing his best to lightly shove your shoulder. “Harder.” The boy complies with the command and he pushes you, making you stumble back. Your dad hums a note and turns to look at you. “Bend your knees, root your feet to the ground.”    You try your best to follow his instructions and he nods to the boy again. You’re pushed again, but this time, you don’t stumble back or fall on your butt. “Good. Now turn your body a little. Like that. One leg in front of the other. Yes. Now when he pushes you again, twist away.”   Seokjin tries to shove you.   You deflect, but barely.   “Again. Put some muscle into it, Kim.”   The student frowns and he tries harder. He’s faster than you expect, stronger, and you’re staggering back, nearly shoved off the mats all together. But your dad has your hand on your back, keeping you upright.   “Again.”   Again and again until he’s happy. “Now open your palm. When he pushes you and you twist, you can throw your arm this way and hit him on the side of his head. Try to get him behind the ear.”   The teacher told you hitting wasn’t allowed — but you listen to your dad and do it the next time Seokjin tries to push you. It works, your arm coming out fast to jab where dad showed you. The boy winces and while you feel bad, it’s kind of fun…   “Do you understand?”   “Yeah!”   “Now next time, they won’t be able to push you anymore. If they do push you around, it’s because you let them.”   You nod and while it’s all weird, you’re glad dad taught you.   You don’t feel so scared anymore.

“Y/N!”   You’re literally shaken out of your daydream, startled and snapping back to attention with a couple of blinks. “Huh? What?”   “Wow. Unbelievable. I can’t believe you were ignoring me this entire time. How rude is that?! The audacity. Our relationship is already going downhill and we haven’t even gotten married yet. Aren’t we supposed to experience this after ten years of having a dead bedroom?” Taehyung’s not impressed whatsoever and he sighs deeply. “If you were listening, I was saying...that there are a lot of ways you can show your dad you care without blatantly saying anything to him. I know you’re not the type to go declare your love or anything, as much as I’d like that.”   “Thanks for the advice.”   “I’m serious though.” Taehyung shrugs, picking up his pace before matching his steps with yours. “Actions are stronger than words anyway. Words can be cheap.”   You pat him on the shoulder with a reserved smile, deciding his meddlesomeness was unwelcome and brushing it off. “You should do the same with your dad then.”   “Nah. I’m already close to that old man. Too close. He ruined my first crush by yelling it out when he was picking me up from school once. Should’ve never told him.” Taehyung smiles to himself, now fond of the memory filled with crippling embarrassment. “He’s just busy these days. Nothing he can do. When he’s done though, he promised to go fishing with me again. I don’t know if you remember, but we used to do that together. Too bad he can’t fish for shit. Keeps picking up seaweed and we end up with seaweed soup instead of grilled fish.”   The story is cute, but you wonder about something else. “What about your stepmother?”   “Nah. You can’t get close to everyone.”   “You haven’t even tried.”   “Don’t make this about me when we’re talking about you.”   “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You smile before reaching over to hold his hand, squeezing securely. It does a good job of making him silent. “Thanks for the advice, Taehyung.”   //   It’s on your day off that you muster the courage to act, instead of just thinking. Maybe Taehyung’s words have really gotten to you because otherwise, you don’t think you’d be doing this.   You release a shaky exhale, crumpling the slip of paper that has the address in your hand before opening the gate. It’s a tiny house on the corner street, not far from the Blue House. It looks unkempt, like he doesn’t come here often; it’s understandable considering he lives and breathes work.   But before you knock on the door, you notice how the roof’s singles are falling, a few kicked in the corner of the patio. The gutter is also torn, hanging haphazardly in the air.   Your fist raps against the surface of the door and it opens. The man on the other side is old and weary, wrinkles lined all over his face and he looks at you with his eyes squinted, blinded by the morning sunlight. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”   “I...uh…” It’s terribly awkward as you shift your weight from one foot to the next, much like a forlorn child who’s been abandoned by their parent and is now showing up one day out of the blue. You shut your eyes to compose yourself. “I heard you were off-duty. I am too. I thought I’d visit..since I’ve...never...really…”   Your voice gets quieter against your will. But the hinges creak, door widening.    “It’s nice of you to come by. I don’t get many breaks often so…”   “Yeah, yeah, no, I get it. But breaks are good. You should, um, keep your health in good condition and breaks help with that.”   It’s a small home, one main room, a single bedroom and a bathroom. It’s meager, little furniture that’s dusty and brown. He’s not one for interior decorating, but you already knew that. Though what takes you by surprise is a picture of you in your graduating outfit on the shelf by the one-seated tiny dinner table.    “Would you like tea or coffee or water?”   “Sure. Any! I’m fine with any.”   When you’re no longer in a professional environment, you’re not sure how to address him or how to act. But while it’s still tense, you focus on taking off your coat, hanging it on the tiny rack, a painted one that you had sent him in grade eight after making it home ec class.    You step closer, the floorboards creaking. “I...didn’t know you moved.”   He stirs the cup of coffee he made with powder inside a packet and hot water. “I don’t need a whole house by myself. This place is enough and close to where I need to be. But it’s still there. The house. In case you need it one day.”   “Oh.” You take the cup he offers, mumbling a ‘thank you’. The conversation dies off, air becoming still, and your eyes stray. “The wall’s wet,” you comment, noticing how the stream of water captures the light.    “Right.” He follows your line of sight. “It’s the roof leaking. I keep telling myself it needs to get fixed, but I keep forgetting—”   “I can do it,” you offer and he turns as you give a small smile. “I can fix the roof….if you want.”   //   Taehyung was right. You’re not bold or courageous like he is. Declarations and confessions are out of the question. You can’t spill the words out of your throat or let them be written on paper if you wanted to. It’s better for you to act without saying. To do rather than to think or speak.   You realize this is the only way you know how.   “I’m sorry for calling you right after your shift.”   “It’s not a problem, chickpea. I’d come running for you no matter the circumstances.”   You’re giddy, giggling while your cheeks heat, face feeling too hot. But then suddenly—   “Y/N!” There’s an angry shout that has your eyes lifting to a man with square shoulders and his fists balled up, a witness to how you’ve become sheepish. “What the hell are you doing?”   “Taehyung? What are you doing here?”   Jimin leans over to be seen, popping out of nowhere, having been hidden by his friend’s larger body. He wears an apologetic smile. “We...we were at the Blue House...and h-heard you call Jin….s-sorry.”   “They joined me.” Seokjin grins. “The more the merrier, right?”   “I guess.”   “You wanted me to help you fix the roof….” Jin turns with his hands on his hips, staring upwards where the damage has been done. “Can’t say I’ve ever tried, but we’ll see what we can do.”   “Psh, you’ve never?” Taehyung scoffs and saunters forward in an arrogant manner, his face cocky.    You’re not impressed. “Have you?”   “Doesn’t matter,” he brushes off quickly. “But I can probably be of more help.”   “Absolutely not.” — “That’s not a good idea.” — “ No.”   All three of you speak over each other, Jimin in a panic, Jin with his mouth curled upwards, and you shaking your head. Taehyung’s jaw drops and you smile, trying to placate him. “You, out of everyone, can’t get hurt.”   “Who said I’ll get hurt?”   His whine is ignored as Jimin pipes up, “Actually, I worked at a roofing company for a year before coming here.”   “Really?” Seokjin smiles. “Then that’s great.”   “But who’s going to watch Tae?”   It goes silent.    “I can watch myself!” Taehyung protests in a voice increasingly becoming shriller. “I’m not a child!”   “Alright, alright.” You pat him on the shoulder. “Let’s get started.”   A short trip to the hardware store later, with Taehyung tagging along with you and bothering you the entire time while Jimin reads off a list he found on the internet and Seokjin goes to consult a worker, all the necessary supplies are gathered together.    Taehyung’s nervous when he watches the three of you climb the ladder. He stands at the bottom to catch you if you slip and also prepare for moving out of the way in case it’s the other two that come falling, especially Jin. Then again, if the older man were hospitalized, that would be a perfect opportunity for you to go running into his arms shamelessly without looking back.   Goddammit.   Before Taehyung could even reconsider what to do, everyone’s gotten up safely and without worry.   He tries to help in other ways, but there’s not much he can do. He stands back as things are thrown off the roof, bits and pieces being torn apart to be replaced. Taehyung watches in envy, wishing he knew how to do these things despite lacking the most knowledge and strength of everyone here….   But there are still things he can do.   “I made lemonade!”   “Thank god!” Jimin wipes his brow with his wrist. “ It’s so hot!”   “Not for you!” he shouts back.   “Oh.” In an instant, the bodyguard’s shoulders fall, dejected.   “Taehyung,” you scold him simply by calling his name. He gives you the glass after you climb down and peel off your gloves, and he begrudgingly pouts as he pours another glass from the large pitcher, listening to you and handing it to Jimin.   Park Jimin wheezes upon the first sip.   Jin observes and it’s enough for him to politely refuse.   But Taehyung doesn’t pay any mind — he only cares about your reaction.   And you drink.   Somehow the lemonade is salty. And you wonder what he could’ve possibly put in it when there’s only supposed to be sugar, lemon, and water. But upon realizing that your pre-boyfriend boyfriend is watching, you hold your breath and down it all.   “Good?”   Your mouth is dry, throat somehow more parched than it was before. “Very.”   “Here have another one then! You drank all of that in one go! You must be super thirsty.”   “Nope.” You give a tight-lipped smile. “I’m fine, Taehyung. Thank you.”   “Aw, you should have another one,” Seokjin playfully shouts behind you. Your expression is blank and you turn around to glare, making the older duck his head and Jimin giggles incessantly.    Work continues.   Taehyung turns to the man sitting beside him. “Want some, Mr. ____?”   “No.”   “Alright then.”   “Don’t worry, Chief. Should only take us two more hours!” Jimin yells down, throwing a thumbs up to show things are going well.   Yet, your father doesn’t speak a single word. Taehyung glances at him, taking in the awkward air and intimidating aura of the man. He shifts, swaying from side to side, fidgeting before he decides to put the pitcher back on the patio table. The table rocks, but luckily the old thing holds up the weight of the drink, and he breathes a sigh of relief.   Taehyung’s eyes stray up again, looking intently. He realizes you don’t look like your dad, but you certainly have his personality, or at least the intimidating aspect is similar…..   The man sighs through his nose. “Son, stop staring at me.”   “S-sorry.” Taehyung looks away.   It goes silent again, excruciating, until he breaks it. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”   “Pardon?”   “For her to come here. And visit me. Just doesn’t seem like something she’d ever do.”   “This...was her decision.” Taehyung looks up at you working and without realizing himself, a proud smile sneaks up his lips. “She wanted to come here, believe it or not. I didn’t tell her anything.”   “I see.”   “She doesn’t hate you,” Taehyung says suddenly, twisting his body to look straight at the old man. Like you, it’s not so scary when he faces it head on. “In case you were thinking of that. She doesn’t. It might not be my place to tell you, but she came back because of you.”   “Because of me?” The old man lightly scoffs and turns to gaze at you. “She’s still stupidly soft, isn’t she? I thought after all that we went through, she would’ve hardened and not care about anything.”   “Is that such a bad thing?”   Your dad pours himself a glass with the pitcher. Taehyung’s about to help, but the other man’s stare keeps him from interfering. Once he gets himself his own drink, he sips on it. And he sets the glass down immediately.    “That’s absolutely disgusting.”   “Sorry.”   “You can’t even make lemonade?”   “I don’t cook.”   Your dad scoffs with a smile tugging at his face. He leans back in his patio chair. “I was surprised she even invited me to her graduation ceremonies. When she finished high school, when she finished the police academy…..I still have the pictures. They’re in my wallet.”   Taehyung doesn’t know why he’s telling him all this, but the old man continues anyway. After all, to him, Taehyung might as well be as stupid as a cactus and it’s easy to talk to plants. “I regret a lot of things. When you get to my age, it’s hard not to. But one of my biggest things I regret was how hard I was on her. I just wanted her to be the best...to be strong and tough….and I didn’t realize I was making things worse until it was too late.”   “Nothing’s too late.”   His comment is ignored. “You can tell her I’m proud of her.”   “Why don’t you tell her?”   “Hmmm, I don’t feel like it.”   A grin spreads into his cheeks and Taehyung stares at your dad. “You’re emotionally stunted too, huh, old man?”   “Excuse me?” His neck cranes, eyes dead.   “That was a joke, it was a joke, I’m sorry.” Taehyung has his hands out, trying to undo and retract his words while begging for mercy.    “I never liked you,” your dad says out of the blue and colour drains from Taehyung’s face.   “What?”   “I only tolerate you because you’re my closest friend’s son. But I always found you...stupid. You lack any form of self-discipline, you’re spoiled, you’re too carefree and idiotically optimistic about things.”   “That’s….harsh.”   “But you’re very kind and genuine. A brave boy, even if you’re dumb about it.” Your dad nods and hums to himself, a conversation he has on his lonesome. “I guess those are a few good traits about you I never realized. I apologize for misjudging you.”   “Uh….I...um….it’s okay.”   Taehyung didn’t even know he was hated so much by your dad.   “I know you two are together.”   If possible, Taehyung’s become even paler. He barely holds himself up from slipping out of the patio chair. His palms are clammy, lips dry, sweat rolling down his face and it’s not from the afternoon sun. “W-who? Me and Jimin? C-Course we’re not together!”   Your dad shifts around again. “Don’t play stupid with me, son. I hear about things all the time. I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know what’s going on between you and my daughter.”   “Oh.”   “To be frank, I don’t care. If she’s going to make idiotic decisions, then she’ll have to bear the responsibilities and consequences herself.” He blinks. “But if I find that any failure is your fault, I will not be happy. Do you understand me?”   “Y-yes. I promise to make your daughter happy, Mr. ____. I-I w-won’t disappoint you.”   The corner of his mouth curls into a ghost of a smile. But he turns away before Taehyung can get a good look. “You’re not asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage, son. I wouldn’t give it to you if you did anyway. But you don’t need to look so scared. I don’t have plans to kill you...any time soon.”   “Oh. Okay. T-Thanks.”   “Get rid of the lemonade before a bird drinks it and dies.”   “Yes, sir.”   While he scatters off, back inside the house, he catches your line of sight. You wonder what your dad and Taehyung were discussing, if it was possibly about you. But your thoughts are interrupted when Jimin asks for the pliers beside your left foot.    Whatever the case may be, you’re glad they’re getting along with one another.   //   You take your coat off the rack, clearing your throat. “The...roof’s done. At least for now. Call me if there’s any leakage or issues with it.”   “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He lingers by the doorway, back hunched from decades of hard work. “There’s no need to worry.”   “Alright. Then, I should get going then.” Your hands stuff themselves in your pockets. “They’re waiting for me outside, so…”   “Go ahead.”   You turn around, facing the surface of the door. But before you open it, you swivel on your feet, question on the tip of your tongue. “Have you been eating well?”   “I have.” Your dad nods. “You don’t need to be concerned for me. I know how to take care of myself.”   “Right. It- uh, seems kind of cold in here, so if you need me to mess with the thermostat or fix any heating issue, you can call me.”   “I’ll make a note of that.”   You hesitate. For some reason, there’s something stopping you from walking straight out the door like you should, something on the tip of the tongue that you want to spill out. You’re held back and you look at your father once more, mustering the courage you don’t have. “Let me come again. I’d….like to visit again, if that’s okay with you.”   “You can do whatever you want,” he deadpans, but then his voice warms, even just by a little. “I’ll always welcome you.”   You’re not used to physical affection — it’s still difficult to get used to how Taehyung throws his arm around your shoulder, how he holds your hand or cuddles when you’re trying to watch TV. You hate being emotionally vulnerable — it feels like a weakness even though it isn’t. And most of all, you struggle to show your dad that you care.   But you hope he can feel it, even if you don’t say it out loud.    “Are we going to go eat anywhere?” Jimin strolls down the neighborhood, forgetting about his duty of guarding and protecting the person beside you. “I’m starving.”   “I know a good sushi place a block away,” Seokjin notes to the other man’s glee.   “Hey.” Taehyung nudges you, speaking in a murmur to keep the conversation private. “Is everything alright?”   “Y-yeah.” You take a sigh of relief, shoulder losing their tension. You meet his eyes. “Everything’s great.”   He smiles softly. “I’m glad.”   You did it. It hits you now as you walk away. You did it without anyone’s help, and it wasn’t bad. It wasn’t scary or frightening or terrible. He never slammed the door in your face or looked at you in disdain and disappointment. It was normal. Your dad was welcoming.   The next time you visit is a week later. And strangely enough, the fridge isn’t empty upon your arrival. Rather, there’s fresh ingredients on shelves and plastic bags. He insists on cooking dinner as a way to thank you for fixing the roof or as he says ‘returning the favour’. But you wonder how long it took him to think of this, to learn and memorize a recipe and act nonchalantly like it came from the top of his head. You wonder how long he’s been waiting for you to come back, what he would’ve done if the ingredients had gone stale.   He’s never cooked before and you watch him mumble to himself helplessly until you help chop the carrots. For the first time there’s a tight feeling in your chest….an emotion you’re not quite sure of but that you’ve felt before—   Family. It comes to you as you take in the cozy atmosphere. For the first time, being with your dad feels like you two are part of a family, and not distant relatives with professional obligations.   Your dad tries and that’s all that matters.   You just have to thank Taehyung for giving you the push forward.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfic #WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE END I CAN TASTE IT #FINALLY

[flameontheotherside]

An Early Bloomer

Okay so this is a little cringy...

Back then, I was in New London, CT and I didn't understand boundaries as a kid. To me age was always just a number and no one could help me understand why it wasn't okay to "come on" to boys or men. I remember there being at least two boys older than me I really liked.

"One time at band camp" lol 😆 No actually one time at camp I got my first kiss and I was 7. I seriously thought I was in love 🙄. Now when I think back on it, obviously I was confused. Lol 😆 then there was this older kid at a group home I was staying at while my mom was at work.

I remember telling this older kid that I really liked him.

He said that it wasn't possible and that saying those things wasn't good... I kept asking him why. He was real nice. I think he helped me with a bike. 🤭 Ever ride your bike through a swarm of gnats? That totally happened and I had them in my mouth. 🤣 I may or may not faked that I still didn't know how to ride my bike.

I literally rode the short bus to school.

I had to repeat kindergarten because I had language issues so this was around when I started to talk and speak English. The bus would pick us up, then I would go to school. After school, I'd walk home which was a block away. There was a guy next door I always though was interesting. In an educational way... I remember him asking me to go away 😆 I was probably annoying. He did this neat thing with his pool. He had an above ground pool like we did. I remember being a pain in the ass always asking questions like:

What are you doing?

How does that work?

Can I try?

But why?

He would use it to make compost. I would watch him throw some stuff in there. He taught me about gardening. At home we had a garden too; we had wine grapes (my grandma made wine and jam with the other fruits), apples, pears, peaches, rhubarb and I think some vegetables. But we never used a compost pile. So to me it was interesting.

My mom grew roses, lavender, and some other flowers in the front yard. I learned how to garden from Ms Kathy who would watch over us while mom was at work. I would pick flowers for my mom and I remember when she said, "Oh these are for me? No one gives me flowers." ...And then the time she also yelled at me for touching her garden. She was a little unpredictable. Overworked as fuck, never around and unpredictable. Since she wanted to be a bitch about it I never did it again.

I'm a Cow Girl.

My family was a gardening family in a place where there were farms. I remember a lot about visiting farms. I love cows and have a collection of cow things back in Miami which I will bring back here with me.

When we moved to Florida, I forgot all about chasing boys until I was about 11. Then yeah everything went downhill from there. Fucking hormones and intuition. I would see dead people and see the future a lot! Dead people looked like real people. I couldn't tell unless I talked to my mom and she would tell me that person is dead. Then I would predict which of my friends would get what teacher the summer before school started too. 😬 It was fun until I realized I was right every single time. I remember kids in the neighborhood would come to my house to tell me I was right.

😘💕 Have a great weekend!

#my life #mediums #psychic #mediumship #intuitive #autistic #asd girls #autistic girls #autistic women #asd women

[marshmallowgoop]

This isn’t something I should have edited together.

But here it is: all the messages I’ve received in the last month or so that are mean spirited and/or really hurt me (no matter how well intentioned they may have been).

After all my years of feeling invisible and like no one cares, I think I’m finally getting somewhere. I’m not just being insulted behind my back anymore.

A Tweet: sometimes following the klk tag is good and nice and sometimes you get an essay on why ryuko and senketsu are in love

by the same blog, who is upset that this is not a popular ship

I’m more worth it than ever to be insulted straight to my face.

Transcript under the cut.

EDIT: I’ve explained my reasons for posting this collage here.

“You realize some of us don’t have Tumblr accounts, we’re coming over from what we heard in the Discord, right? Surprised the self-professed shirtfucker lore god didn’t think of that. Don’t trip over your massive brain since you ‘write stuff, at times’.”

“Ragyo’s bath scene was anti-fanservice. She’s disgusting, but it’s meant to turn the gross ass men off from her that would normally be pulled into that. As much as Ryuko and Satsuki are independent, strong lesbian women, so is Ragyo. She’s completely on the wrong side, morally, but geez Goop. Get it together with your points on her. I get that she’s not Senketsu but c’mon. Disappointed because I expected different.”

“senketsu raped ryuko in their first scene together. shipping them is gross.”

“If you have to outline the technical definition of ‘rape’ as it applies to a ship, it’s a bad ship. I thought you were better than this, Goop :(”

“on the fence about whether you have any fucking brain cells at all at this point”

“goops, you’re starting to stoop to the level of those that are bugging you. your last reply came off as super patronizing. i love you dude, but seeing you become as big headed as the haters is disappointing. get well soon.”

“’to quote steven universe’“

“no wonder your headcanons are so unpopular. This whole blog is a bad take

All of the women (except Sukuyo) are gay coded in that show, including the villains. It’s completely unrealistic to except them to cater to your clothesexual Kindergarten bullshit. You watched a different show than the rest of us.”

“You’re so butthurt about this Ragyou thing. Get over yourself. So what, your takes on her are shit. Talk about what you know you can write about successfully then.”

“Senketsu was made using pieces of Ryuko’s DNA. Shipping them borders on incest, it’s pretty fucked.”

“Some of us lesbians want diversity in our representation. We don’t want them all to be perfect, and we accept that we can have representation that isn’t moral just like every other sexuality. You can’t speak for everyone, especially as a non-lesbian, and declare Ragyo unfit for being a gay character. Go back to talking about the talking shirt.

LET US HAVE RAGYO WHAT THE FUCK

your latest take really hurts me, goop. i started following you awhile ago because i love kill la kill. but as a lesbian and someone that loves ragyo (while not excusing her) your claim that she is ‘too evil’ to be representation for me and my people really turns me off of this blog.

Should’ve stuck with what you know. You obviously aren’t aware of the symbolism behind Ragyo and anything about her beyond her calling Senketsu ugly.”

“Goop, giving a Tumblr link on the topic of gene splicing is the equivalent of getting your degree from the back of a cereal box. I have to agree with the other anons on Senketsu/Ryuko.”

“I can assure you no one thinks you’re a man lmfao”

“That feel when senketsu will still inevitably die at the end of the series and ryuko moves on like she’s intended to, because girls can’t wear their sailor uniforms forever. And then she goes on a date with mako.”

“we don’t give a shit if you think ryumako is intended because it’s clear you and your writing are incredibly biased and angled to support your own ship. nice try.”

“usually i agree with many of your takes, but your recent ragyo one is Not That Good, goop”

Sent on October 17th, 2019, at 9:45:45 am: “You could play cringe bingo with this blog, omg. Tag yourself, I’m marginalized Senketsu”

Sent on September 22nd, 2019 at 6:12:00 am: “She shouts his name because she’s talking to him.”

Sent on September 27th, 2019, at 8:31:37 am: “🚂[train emoji] - the sexual assault theme when senketsu forces himself upon ryuko when they first meet. inb4 you come up with some headass explanation as to why it isn’t a sexual assault-geared scene lmfao”

Sent on September 21st, 2019, at 6:47:06 pm: “SENKETSU BEING OPPRESSED AND MARGINALIZED? how many people actually know he exists? not enough for him to be oppressed. comparing this to what the anons were talking about before, idk what you think oppression is.”

Sent on September 23rd, 2019, at 5:47:32 pm: “yeah right, and you have a degree in journalism and creative writing. fat chance on tumblr. at least find something published with actual citations if you want to use it as gospel. but then again, sloppy writing through some heavy ass shipper goggles, what a surprise.”

Sent on September 21st, 2019, at 6:40:42 pm: “comparing the attractiveness of a human versus a piece of sentient clothing? that’s beyond apples to oranges.”

Sent on September 22nd, 2019, at 3:31:08 am: “You tagged them as being the most canon a few posts ago, Goop. Maybe you should take a rest, some of these replies are getting convoluted.”

Sent on October 17th, 2019, at 4:57:52 pm: “AU where you have good takes”

Sent on October 14th, 2019, at 4:43:14 pm: “’Face me in klk IF’ cringe”

Sent on October 16th, 2019, at 1:28:30 pm: “ryuko is physical with senketsu because he’s her fucking shirt. this is getting hilarious, holy shit. they were right.”

Sent on October 29th, 2019, at 7:40:48 am: “You’ve been too busy sucking your own dick to post anything too embarrassing probably.”

Sent on October 14th, 2019, at 6:11:04 pm: “’Demonization of men’ we have gone full headass now, there’s now turning back.”

Sent on October 16th, 2019, at 2:37:06 pm: “Not everyone sends you comments because of the Ragyo issue, don’t lump everyone together. Some of us have just seen this all go downhill and feel like voicing that.”

Sent on September 22nd, 2019 at 3:35:13 am: “you’re not going to explain how senketsu’s supposed oppression is on par with human racism because there’s no evidence that it’s as overwhelming except in your mind, since you’re the only person who would ever try to say what senketsu experiences is on par with what marginalized humans go through.”

Sent on September 22nd, 2019, at 3:09:13 am: “Not to be that guy, but if you see Senketsu as a child and still ship him with Ryuko we have a huge problem.”

Sent on September 22nd, 2019, at 2:55:57 am: “Wait a minute, you just said Senketsu is a ‘literal child’, but also ship Ryuko with him and think they’re canon? That’s pretty pedophilic what the fuck”

Sent on October 16th, 2019, at 7:12:02 pm: “You ever wonder why we’re here?”

#shut up goop #goop makes a (kinda) personal post #i probably shouldn't have deleted all this crap outta my inbox #'cause re-typing these messages was painful #that poor grammar and spelling on some of them.... #eesh #anyway i got the moon sickness so i don't feel so good and idk if this helped but eh #the discourse #serious talk #abuse mention #rape mention #kill la kill #venting

[transrightsjimin]

just watched a documentary abt kurt cobain on tv and man, in the beginning i thought oh right i want to listen more to 90s rock, but also this rly got me feeling depressed nd thinking abt an old friend who was in a similar place (without the fame though) nd who i had to call 112 for and this weird mother who tried to befriend me and uses drugs nd doesnt believe in regular medication, nd then to yoongis lyrics which i thought abt earlier today, and also just how much couldve been prevented for him nd other depressed ppl if they had been stimulated better in their childhood (considering he appeared to have undiagnosed adhd from wht i understood), but at the same time the whole depressed grunge thing where youre critical of authority and simultaneously feel like killing random ppl nd are just guiltrrippy in the end is such a typical angry white ppl thing, and i thought abt my own depression and childhood and felt sad abt how i felt already mentally pretty bad in groep 3 (?) (the year after two years of kindergarten) partially bc i had the most horrible teacher nd partially bc my brother was doing criminal stuff nd got in trouble so my parents were more busy w him, logically, and i felt neglected and lied to the school that my dad kicked me every day (which the school luckily took seriously so my parents had a talk). like i thought i went depressed in groep 5 but i think it started earlier on bc i truly didnt remember being happy in the two school years before that. then from groep 5 to 8 i got bullied rl bad (i think less bad in groep 6) and im still angry at how i wasnt diagnosed w depression officially ever in my life (and still not rly, bc the therapists ive had said that i just have depressive complaints instead of a disorder, even if ive had this for years, but bc im not suicidal its hard for them to call it depression, nd like i never gpt my diagnosis for autism or depression on paper or information after my autism diagnosis) nd only had to keep a diary in groep 5 to deal with stress bc that would worsen my skin allergies. i wish i had more than that and like, saw a person abt it. like i hate whining abt my childhood bc it wasnt the worst, i had classmates in primary school who were in much worse abusive / traumatizing situations, nd it might be why they tried to act out their power over me, but for me it was just being bullied by the class nd it seems so small. but idk it still frustrates me that the last time i was truly without depressive complaints was prob when i was like. 6. i think it was less bad in high school bc there i had a few more friends and i felt happy when acting like the weird autistic kid i was and bc literally everyone was awkward nd Random it was fine and quite liberating. but then when the end of the 6th year was nearing and exams were coming and i had no more structure of a timetable bc less classes, i fell into worse depression similar to what i had at worst in groep 7 and 8. like just, responsibility, discipline, concentration, durability, etc were demanded amd ive never been trained in those things. and as i got older things aldo went downhill between me nd my parents bc they wanted me to be a responsible adult but at the same time prevented me from learning these skills bc they were faster nd more capable and im just stupid and a nusance. im sorry for rambling but my thoughts are all over the place. i wanna read yoongis lyrics more bc im emotional nd crying and i know im sounding very dramatic but im still mad i lost like 80% of my life to depression. and i would like to think its not lost but idk. i just want to be completely better but idk if thats possible since im so susceptible to depression bc of my autism. its a bit reassuring to read yoongi share that hes also not where he wanted to be yet and that thats fine. ugh i just cant stop crying and idk why

#rambles #i cant watch depressive things they make me think too many thoughts nd feel too many things

[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

Every 7th question as well as 23 and 19.

Note: From these fanfiction asks.  Long post ahoy! (and hopefully tagging someone under the read more still tags them)

7. List your NOTPs from each fandom you’ve been in.

Alright, so I’ve been in more fandoms than I can remember.  In terms of shipping, I tend to review things on a case by case basis.  There have been times I’ve disliked the way a pairing or particular fic was written, but the only time I tend to say “absolutely not” is with incest pairings.  The only other specific that comes to mind at the moment is Xehanort/Anyone from Kingdom Hearts.  That dude is just too gross in body and mind, plus, given that he sort of IS half the characters in that series at this point, it borderline falls under the “no incest” rule anyways.

14. Who are your BroTPs?

Ok, so going by my mostly current fandoms alone:

The Beatles–all four Beatles together, pretty much, or in any combination among them

Fall Out Boy–all the band members, basically like the Beatles answer above

Final Fantasy 15– the main party members in any combination, plus Luna+Cindy+Aranea+Iris in an AU where they actually got to meet and have their own adventures

Kingdom Hearts– The series runs on the goddamn power of friendship, so friend fics about basically any of the heroes are awesome, but since I probably need to be more specific I’d say (in no particular order) Sora+Riku, Riku+Kairi, Riku + Mickey, and Sora+Donald+Goofy

19. Is there any ship you wish you could get behind, but just don’t feel them?

Hm, this is a tough question.  There are a lot of pairings I just “don’t feel” but I don’t necessarily wish I could get behind them either.  I guess Petekey and any shipping between the FF15 party members counts here.  They’re popular ships and I get why people like them, but don’t feel anything for them myself.

21. First fanfic you ever wrote?

I actually don’t know.  The oldest fanfic I’ve found of mine was a Disney one scrawled on like, construction paper that was from when I was in Kindergarten.  Apparently as soon as I learned to write, I started writing my own stories about my favorite characters.

Eventually that turned into the citrus-flavored fic I tend to turn out today.  I feel like my ability to write probably went downhill somewhere.

23. Name a fic you’ve written that you’re especially fond of and why.

This is a tough one!  There’s actually a couple of different answers.  In terms of fic I’ll currently own up to, I’m super proud of both “It Happened Once In a Dream” and “Tastes Like You, Only Sweeter”.  The former because it’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever written, really straight to the point and intense with the imagery.  The latter because it’s one of the longest fics I’ve ever written, it has an actual plot (!), and it manages to blend humor and sexy content in a way I’m genuinely proud of.

HOWEVER, there is one more fic I am really, truly, UNFAIRLY proud of.  It was a 20k words, elaborately plotted, characterization-on-point action-adventure that managed to perfectly balance a crossover between FOUR different series.  I even researched the canon of each series to make sure it fit with all the canons.  When I posted it, it got great reviews and even accompanying art!  That being said, unfortunately, the crossover in question would be considered exceptionally “cringe” today, so I’m left in the frustrating position of being super proud of a fic but absolutely unable to claim credit.  Oddly enough, this fic was also pretty much the only non-smut fic I’d ever posted.  Weird how that worked out.

28. If someone were to draw fanart for your story, which story would it be and what would the picture be of?

I’d LOVE to have art done of any of my fics, but, uh, yeah I post like 99% lemon fic (and boy, is it weird seeing that term come back!) so I understand why nobody’s really drawn it.  That being said, if anyone wants to draw Patrick licking his fingers from “It Happened Once in a Dream” or him eating that pastry in “Tastes Like You Only Sweeter”… it would be a dream come true.

35. Do you write drabbles? If so, what are they normally about?

I almost always write drabbles; long fics are the rare exception for me.  The ones I post are usually smut, since that’s the easiest thing to do well in one self-contained scene.

42. List and link to 5 7 fanfiction authors who are amazing.

@soulpunkpatrickstump @secretstudentdragonblog @serenityspiral @sn1tchesandtalkers @ascensiontree @blindedstarlight @louisvuittontrashbags Are just a FEW of the great authors whose work I’ve stumbled across on Tumblr alone (note: these are mostly for the FOB and FF15 fandoms.  If I started getting into all my fandoms I’d be tagging literally everyone I follow at this point)

49. Do you care if people comment/reblog your writing? Why?

YES.  PLEASE COMMENT ON MY WRITING.  I absolutely THRIVE on feedback.  Like, genuine feedback, not just “plz update”.  Hearing that people like a story, and what parts worked or didn’t work for them, absolutely drives me to continue writing and also gives me ideas on how I can keep improving.

Also tagging @laudanumcafe and @allkindsofplatinumandpercocet because I know you guys read my writing, even though I haven’t read yours yet (whoops)

#writing stuff #my writing #asks answers #asks #ask game

[brynnmaxwell]

( TORI KELLY )? NO THAT’S ( BRYNN MAXWELL ) THE ( TWENTY-THREE ) YEAR OLD ( KINDERGARTEN TEACHER ). WHO HAS BEEN IN TOWN ( ONE YEAR ) AND REMINDS EVERYONE OF ( BRIGHTLY PRINTED SUNDRESSES, THROWING YOUR HANDS UP ON A ROLLERCOASTER, AND SMILING SO HARD YOUR CHEEKS HURT ). MAYBE IT HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE FACT THE ( CISFEMALE ) IS ALWAYS ( TIMID & IMPRESSIONABLE ) OR ( BIG-HEARTED & SELFLESS ). EITHER WAY ( SHE ) IS APART OF THE TOWN.

also welcome this dork to town 2!!!

tw: abuse

brynn is from south carolina she has a lil southern accent and she just moved to tallow a year ago

she moved to tallow to get away from her husband, whom she met in high school and got married to as soon as she was 18, everything was all hunky dory when they were teenagers but as soon as they got married everything went Downhill

he was very emotional abusive and controlling and brynn wanted to get a divorce but in typical dickhead fashion, he wouldnt allow it

brynn put up with him for a few years, just because she knew she did love him at one point, but she ended up basically going out of her mind bc she was so unhappy and constantly looked down upon by him

so she basically ran away to tallow and started going by her middle name (her first name is elizabeth but she 100% will not go by that or respond to that) and started using her maiden name

so shes technically still married Yikes and shes very anxiety ridden bc shes afraid her husband will find her and something bad will happen

anyways she moved across the country to restart her life

shes a kindergarten teacher and she loves it!!!!!!!! shes shy and a lil awkward so its a lot easier for her to talk to 5 year olds than to anyone her age lol

brynn will literally give her whole entire effort to anything or anyone who asks she is very selfless (mainly bc her husband has deeply engrained in her brain that shes worthless ////:) so she just gives back to others since she does not do the same for herself!!!!

plays guitar and sings, mainly to her class so they can learn the months and how to count, would rather die than sing in front of anyone who is old enough to formulate a rude opinion

A HUGE PUSHOVER WILL NOT STAND UP FOR HERSELF AND JUST LET PEOPLE WALK ALL OVER HER

says um and uh A LOT bc shes surrounded by 5 year olds 5 days a week so holding a conversation that doesnt revolve around superheroes or turtles is nerve wracking for her

tries her best to be positive!!!!!!! loves hugs!!!!!!!!!!!!! loves making friends even tho she is shy!!!! would do anything for ANYONE without a second thought!!!!

basically shes sunshine but also a nervous shy wreck at the same time and there is a great possibility anyone can take advantage of her bc she would just Let Them

connections!!!!

coworkers

friends

parents of her students

someone that intimidates her and makes her a stuttering nervous Mess

a jam buddy who she can play guitar with

someone who dislikes her and is mean but brynn will let them be mean bc shes too lame to stand up for herself

someone who might know her from her past!!! dun dun dun!!!!!

crushes (she isnt the hook up type but maybe if we made a connection for that we will c)

wine night buddy

anything really

#tallowintro #tw abuse

[tulsipatel-blog1]

blob

Im very prone to overthinking practically everything its definetly one of my biggest strengths/weaknesses i cant seem to get the ideas and dreams out of my head as long as i can remember i have been very aloof sensitive and anxious i think my parents and brother worry about me too much and the recent idea that i dont care has also hit them i know that they dont know that i took forever to get to this good of a mental state ive been struggling in and out of weird mentalities my whole life and today and recently has been the most stable although its not completely stable which i dont think it will ever be ive been trying to be better trying to find the beauty in every day (cause literally im so fucking lucky and all it took was to accept myself to recognize it) trying to read books that clear the fog in my head trying to take action and put my dreams to action trying to make reality more like my fantasies the colors sounds emotions activities i want to line them up ive spent years waiting for nothing is something i realized something that was so hard for me to accept and something else ive learned to accept is my life is perfectly fine now as long as im present and trying to make the best of every situation-good or bad-im perfectly good and ill get better everyday.

So im in eleventh grade and prom recently passed and ive been recently thinking about the hype towards these four so very insignificant yet very significant years of a persons life. i didnt attend prom it didnt feel right and i truly truly had no desire to go i dont have many friends and maybe im too sensitive but i know im just gonna be standing at the party dreaming up better versions of it with more positive accepting people wishing i was less shy and whatever my brain can fantasize im also way too observant ive been since i was little ive always struggled with social anxiety and negative mindsets. kindergarten thru elementary school my fondest memories were just moments with my cousins and i had a good group of friends in middle school. 9th grade was horrible i was depressed and i sat in the bathroom for lunch watching kpop videos or walked around the school over and over alone feeling numb and on the brink of tears almost always mental breakdowns on top of mental breakdown on top of a shit ton of homework i had to because of IB 10th grade was a blurry year i switched schools and my mental health was better foggy insecure but better still lonely inside 11th grade after a summer of mom getting a eye surgery and a wedding mom fell into depression was anxious and having panic attacks dads been struggling with work and they have both been going downhill for the past year and a half yet i think its getting better maybe im just more positive though and my brothers in college so all this alone time and the sketchy moods kept me in my much better but still foggy mood mid into eleventh grade something changed for me i made happiness a priority i made believing myself(in my dreams, actions) priority i made loving myself a priority i made accepting myself(and others)a priority i made lessening feelings of my social anxiety jealousy negativity self sabotaging beliefs and everyday im trying to improve and i feel so much better mentally more happy more present imperfect and whatever comes my way i know i can work through it im ok im excited and im proud and thankful for everythings happened

edit: im pretty sure i wrote this about a year ago around the same time of year and its my twelth grade year. For the first time, ive never seen such improvement in myself for my ability to talk to people i feel comfortable open and i can start conversations. i made a decision to not force any friendships and let things evolve naturally and i dont criticize myself as much for being boring or socially awkward finally realized the more i criticized myself the more i held myself back from feeling comfortable in my own body realized its better to be around people who are struggling through the same things i go through such as difficulty creating close relationships awkwardness nerdyness emotional instability etc i think i spent too much time imagining that i would be close friends with people who had very similar interests as me but were still extremely different i felt that their personalities were ignorant selective and exclusive which is fine ive learned that we are beautiful and different and not meant for each other and thats fine and i really should assume less about people even if my everything in my gut says im right its important to let people go if it doesnt work out and love and appreciate all the humans i hope i come out of highschool grateful even though i hated most of it i wanna be grateful for the memories and friends

[candidlycaro]

Phoenix

Well, I haven’t been on Tumblr (besides a school project) since I was 15 years old. This used to be my place to vent, share my feelings, write creatively, and obviously post the impromptu emo-cutting GIF that this trash website used to be filled with nonstop. I’m just thankful that it’s popularity decreased and I was actually able to get this username? Kinda sick. You know what I mean.

SO-- what brings me back? There’s a lot of easy answers to this question and then I think there are deeper ones. The most obvious, glaring answer is that I got dumped last week. No, not the kind of dumped that makes me want to key his car (it’s a Honda, anyway) or punch him in the face, but the kind that makes you take a real big look at yourself on the inside. So I did that. I took everything that he said and I looked inside-- and for the first time in the entirety of our relationship I realized something. He was right. (If you’re reading this I promise this was a half-joke meant for dramatic effect, you deserve more credit where credit is due!)

But in all seriousness, I took a look at myself and I didn’t like what I saw. I saw a girl so consumed by negativity, fixation, and obsession that she forgot how to be happy. I looked in the mirror and saw someone whose idea of self care was skipping a meal or putting off smoking weed until AFTER doing something that was much more important (no friends, I am not getting rid of weed. I should. But right now it makes me laugh when I want to cry so I think I’ll be sticking to it for a bit). 

Anyways, the point that I’m trying to make is that he really did me a favor. Not a favor as in like leaving me, in fact I’m pretty sure we’re on fine terms considering we almost broke his bed and my knee having sex the other day but I’m talking bigger picture. He actually cared about me enough to be like HEY FUCKER. YOU’RE NOT YOU ANYMORE. And for a bit I hated him for that-- I really did! I was like dude, fuck, two years of my life and you’re telling me this isn’t SERIOUS? But, when I realized he had signed up for something completely different it kind of clicked with me. He didn’t sign up for this or this version of myself, he signed up for the happy go-lucky Caro that lit up every room she walked into. Not to say that our SO’s shouldn’t be through thick and thin, but when thick becomes your entire lifestyle it’s different. And I got it. I seriously stood in front of my mirror this weekend, took a huge look, and was like well, fuck, who is this?

I don’t really know where she went, but I used to like actually enjoy life. I used to like doing activities, getting up early for workout classes (something I think I’d rather swallow literal shit for than do now), being incredibly kinky, cooking, taking my dog places-- I don’t know, point being, I was a person. Now all I seem to do is sit in my job from like 9:30 (fine, 10 if we’re being honest) to 7, maybe I have a good day if I’m lucky, I would leave, go to my (ex)boyfriends apartment and complain up the wazoo, smoke, sleep, and repeat. Is that ANY FUCKING WAY TO LIVE? I THINK NOT!

Like as much as what he said hurt me, he was completely right. Who the fuck was I? Why was I making both of us so unhappy and why couldn’t I at least see it? And I think the most hurtful question or the one that pains me the most rather is why did it take me so long to realize? Because it’s not like he never told me or gave me the chance to change, he really did. But I didn’t want to change and I wasn’t ready to. I was content being that type of person for some reason and didn’t really realize what was at stake.

And it wasn’t just the relationship that was at stake-- if it was then the whole point of this post or whatever would be so fucking dumb. I didn’t realize that MY LIFE WAS AT STAKE. I’m 22 why the FUCK am I hung up, sad, complaining nonstop, wasting my life smoking it away (once again, I love you weed but only in doses. Like crack!-- kidding. kind of) instead of having amazing sex with someone I was so infatuated by, getting in the best physical shape of my life (I was an exercise science major, after 25 shit goes DOWNHILL!), spending time with family friends and just enjoying. I actually started hating GOING OUT too which like if you know me you know I’m not a huge drinker but I always was down to go out and just like socialize? What happened to that? 

Bottom line: shits gotta change. And like I kind of wish it could be one of those self-discovery things where I’m like “what do I need to change? I’ll do it and find myself randomly in Thailand with the elephants, ah!”-- but I know exactly what I need to change. And I’ve made some INTENTIONS. 

1. Appreciation

Something me and my (ex)boyfriend agreed on heavily was that we took each other for granted. When we spent time together we’d just be there on our phones, not really appreciating and recognizing how lucky we both were to be in the presence of someone that loves you. That lack of appreciation turned into resentment, and I don’t want that to happen in any of my relationships-- family, friends, lovers, whatever. I won’t let that happen again. I want everyone in my life to know that I appreciate them, I want to be present with them. I don’t want to go on my phone when I’m at dinner with friends, I want to give my parents all the attention they deserve, and frankly I want everyone in my life to know they’re loved. Ex boyfriend included. 

2. Motivation

I don’t really know where this one went. When I was in kindergarten I remember kicking a middle schooler in the nuts simply because he told me I couldn’t go on the swing because I was a girl. My ultra feminist chic 5 year old self would kick ME in the VAGINA if she knew that I was acting like this. I am such a lucky, lucky girl with a loving family, friends, and more. I’m smart, I’m beautiful, I know my self-worth and most importantly-- I know that I can succeed anything I put my mind to. Why am I fucking afraid of yoga, or running, or failing. It’s time to get the fuck up and do it. Did I go to yoga today? Yes. Did I cry twice when Mac Miller came on in the middle? Also yes. But I WENT. And that’s better than the day before!

3. Calm

Everyone who knows me knows I live breathe shit anxiety. It’s something I’ve dealt with my entire life and something I never really put in the effort to fix. Sure I’m on lexapro, I used to spoof my ex’s klonopon every once in a while and at one point I smuggled 100 xanax from Mexico. But like I’ve never gotten to the root of it. Yes, I know I have death-anxiety because my parents are literal dinosaurs. Yes, I know I’m insecure because my ADHD makes me seem annoying. I know all these things, and based off of all the psych classes I’ve taken in the past I could probably hit the nail on the head but I’m not a professional. It’s time to stop self-diagnosing, fixating, and get some damn help. Maybe if I wasn’t so stressed and pushed that stress onto everyone else everyone in my life would be happier? I know my ex definitely would be. 

 4. Work is what it is-- work. It’s not your life

As mentioned above, I live breathe and shit anxiety. I also live breathe and shit my job and it’s time for that to stop. I don’t give two shits anymore if I had a bad day, if someone’s trying to cause shit or my boss is a bitch. At the end of the day I’m there to get money? If the opportunity cost of my happiness versus my paycheck is at such a huge discrepancy it’s time to rethink careers. Not saying I’m quitting my job, but I need to learn to start leaving work at work. They don’t pay me after I go home so I shouldn’t think about it. Easier said than done but I need to work on it. 

5. Acceptance

Let’s be real-- I have an acceptance problem. I refused to accept it when my ex left me, I refused to accept it when my dad got sick (I actually fully never visited him in the hospital after he had a stroke which is one of my most embarrassing secrets. That one felt good to get out!), and sometimes I just blatantly refuse to accept things I can’t change. 

As my wise mother Charlene once said,

You can’t make someone call you back who doesn’t want to.

You can’t make someone love you who doesn’t. 

And most importantly, you can’t change what you can’t change. But what you can change is YOU. And that’s exactly what I intend to do. 

It’s been Day 1 of this journey, and it definitely wasn’t easy. I cried 6 times, ate two donuts, almost passed out in crescent moon pose, heard my ex’s favorite song in MY YOGA CLASS and started crying in front of a group of randos, but I got up. I went to work. I got on the mat and was present. I focused on my breathing. I cried my eyes out to Fleetwood Mac, Selena Gomez, & Lady Gaga all in one day. Weird combination but it’s fine. Will Day 2 be easier? Probably not-- but it’s not supposed to be. Changing and molding yourself isn’t supposed to be easy. If it was then every single time me and my ex had this same exact conversation we would’ve changed. But we didn’t. I know this is going to be hard-- probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it will also be the most worth it. 

-Caro

[mmecollet]

Hello from glacier fed Lac Léman

Orphéa has begun to not just walk but run any chance she gets all the while practicing “Mama.. Mom...MOOOM...PAAPAA...NO! ”. Leïve is nearing the end of her first year of kindergarten where she is fixated by the alphabet, colouring, rough housing with the boys, refining her “inside voice”, counting to 20 in French and English, downhill skiing and two wheel bicycling on her own (with us in front and behind of course). Still a lover of music (Sound of Music remains on repeat in our car) and costume dressing, notably Ninja Turtles and Super Heroes.

We are in the throws of pitching our project to possible investors and scouring the city over for a place we will eventually call “home” for the studio. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom around the small French town that we have inhabited over the fall and winter. And just as the season changes to spring, we are preparing to move once again.

As many of you know, we are in the middle of following our heart project and dream of building a Modo Yoga Community in the Alps we love. Geneva, Switzerland to be exact. The most common question we get asked is not “Why Yoga” but rather “Why Modo (Moksha in Canada)”? Our answer is simple. Modo Yoga is an ethical business community. The studios exchange with the economy on the basis of shared values. Within these shared humanitarian and environmental beliefs, we collectively can make a positive impact not just with the communities we individually engage with but the world (our planet) at large. We can trace back to nature every aspect of our economy to the resources it trades. Modo Yoga Studios are not only conscious of this, but with gratitude and a collective goal- we invest our time in building communities, raising awareness in areas we are passionate about, and then giving back. Together our impact is stronger.

One of the big campaigns that Modo Yoga Studios globally commit to is #growyouryoga every April. It is a chance to dust yourself  off and practice daily something that you would like to see more of in your life. The benefit of practicing in community or collectively: it is fun, we share each others energy and then the energy we create goes to the benefit of a good cause. This year our cause is water conservation and awareness. Did you know that not all beings on this planet have access to potable, clean water? Or that our bodies are made up of roughly 75% in water?

Why is this important to me? For one, I grew up in Manitoba where I spent 34 years worth of summers at Falcon Lake. I cannot imagine a world without it. I have two little girls that I hope will be able to grow and play and enjoy lakes for their entire lives and the lives of their children. Lastly, as a mother the thought of other babies not having clean water to drink or be bathed in, makes my heart ache.

Since we are “in between communities” to practice with I was hoping that I could convince some of you to virtually practice with us in our very first Modo Yoga Genève #growyouryoga challenge. It could be a combined effort of all the 204 people in our hearts and the friends we have met along the way, you have all helped us in some shape or form to get here.

If you are interested you can join in on the energy and fun in practicing live at any Modo or Moksha Studio (all April Karma Class funds go to the same cause). If you are often on the move, in the sky or not close to a studio you can download classes from this link  https://shop.mokshayoga.ca/collections/classes There is a new Flow class that you can practice from the comforts of your own home if it is something you are curious about but not yet ready try out in a studio (Mom)!

If you are interested in donating money to the cause, all money raised is supporting: Water Keepers Alliance, David Suzuki Foundation and 350org. You can donate on the CrowdRise link directly at modoyoga.com or at any Modo / Moksha  Yoga Studios.

If you are interested in voicing your support you can sign the petition to Justin Trudeau to fulfill his campaign promise to bring safe drinking water to all Canadians. It literally took me 2 minutes including copying and pasting the link http://action2.davidsuzuki.org/water

Know that our hearts appreciate your interest, curiosity and support in us following our dreams. Please reach out (here, email, FB, Instagram @modo.yoga.geneve, phone call) or better yet, come and visit!

Sending you all love from across the Atlantic xoxo

#modoyoga mokshayoga growyyouryoga modoyogageneve modoyogageneva yogageneve yogageneva yogaalpes yogaalps

[unrrrreliable]

alcoholic dad

i found out that my dad is an alcoholic. he has been one for 20 years. my fathers story is very complex, but basically when he was in his mid 20s he got punched in the face in the middle of a train and his brain got “slightly” damaged (as in he didnt fucking die). his frontal lobe got kinda messed up, so he makes a lot of actions impulsively . and he’s reaaaallly bad at managing stuff like money and planning stuff like trips. for example, if you tell him to buy 1L of milk in the grocery store he’ll buy 3. because of that, my mom always makes the decisions, thay always have to pay the bills together and my mom needs to check if he isnt “wasting” any money as in giving it to the church (which doesnt need any money at all since we’re in fucking switzerland and the government funds the church). theres some stuff we dont know if he already had or if it was caused by that accident. nonetheless, my dad only told that to my mom when she was pregnant with me, the youngest of 2 children. of course, my mom couldnt just leave. she said, if he had said that before my brother and i were born, she would’ve left him. honsetly, i cant judge her, because he is disabled, kind of, so it would be really hard to build up a family with such a person (spoiler alert - it was). my dad is also really detatched from the world, like he lives in his own world. sometimes, when i was 1-3 and my brother 3-6, he would just leave the house with 0 warning and stay out for 7 hours without answering the phone. obviously, my mom would panic because she’d always think something bad happened to him but then, at the end of the day (literally), he would come back as if nothing had happened. he would do that constantly. until we moved out to brazil. this happened in 2007. i was 3, my brother 6. life there was really nice: my brother and i started kindergarten and prmary school, my mom was studying to make an exam which would allow her to work for some kind of fbi (receita federal). it was a really good job with a high salary, but she had to study hours a day. my dad was making a phd in something in germany but living in brazil. side note: he didnt put any effort to learn portuguese, search a job in brazil, anything. that was his passive-aggressive way to tell my mom that he didnt want to live in brazil and he wanted us to come back to switzerland. in 2010, after hours of hard work and study, my mom passed the exam and could work in rf. but then, my dad was  depressed and said he wanted us to come back to switzerland. my mom says he wasnt actually depressed. honestly, depressed or not, he shouldnt have used that as an excuse to take us out of there and my mom after she had put on so much time to study for that exam. basically he didnt give a fuck about her. i feel really bad writing this because my mom really studied a lot and she wouldve been an excelent professional. flash forward, we move back to switzerland, this time in the italian part. my mom says she wanted to come here because of the language and because in this city theres a mountain that looks like pão de açúcar (sugar bread or whatever its called - that one in rio). obviously its not because of that, i assume its because she just didnt want to live in the german part since she was very discriminated and that lead to her hating the language and just the energy. and of course he didnt do anything to defend her. so we move here and my mom gets depression. i dont remember much of her being depressed, but i vividly remember calling her to watch some “family movies” but she would never come because she was in her room, precisely in her bed, depressed. she would sometimes sleep until midday, but since i was like 7 i didnt really mind or be worried. neither did my brother. side note: my dad is a really weak person: he doesnt tell what he thinks in your face, he has to drink to have the courage to tell my mom something when he’s angry at her. i think thats one of the worst things a man can do to their women, especially my mom, since her dad was an alcoholic. she tells me when she was 4 she used to be extremely afraid and embarassed of her father, and she doesnt remember him being sober. when she was 13 he eventually died and she and her siblings had to take care of the bills. long story short, she absolutely despised men who drank, and thats exactly what my dad did. of course he knew it btw. everytime he drank my mother would hide it, and in send him immediately to their room or just not argue with him. but one time, in summer, my brother was at a summer camp and i was at home with my mom. my dad came home drunk and i dont remmeber much but they started arguing. he wasnt aggressive at all but he was just talking nonsense and lock himself in the bathroom and cried? i dont know. i just remember him making wierd noises. anyways, my mom sent me to my friends house and i was really happy lol. that day, my mom was fed tf up, so she decided that the 3 of us would move back to brazil and my dad would stay here and visit us once in a while. once or twice a month. this was in 2013. from 2013 until 2017, we lived our best life. my dad would send the money from switzerland to brazil and it would multiply by 4 more or less since the dollar was pretty high, so it converted to the brazilian currency. we would eat out at restaurants every week, my mom would buy clothes every week (not too much because she knows how to control herself and she never buys what she doesnt need), have pilates lessons, have coffees with her friends, we would have lunch and dinner with our relatives. we were at home. my mom was at home, at her hometown. my dad would come visit us once every month. everything was going pretty good. of course we had problems, especially my brother, who struggled a lot in school since in brazil you have much more stuff to study and school is genuinely harder. in 2016, brazil’s president dilma rousseff got impeached and my mom already knew the political situation was only starting to go downhill. also, she didnt want my brother and i to do highschool there, so we came back to switzerland in january 2017. in the beginning, it was pretty shit for me and my brother, my class was shit and my classmates were a bunch of idiots. but at least i had some friends. things were going ok. once in a while my dad would come home with a wierd facial expression, talking a lot of nonsense and making random speeches but i would think nothiung of it, he probably just had a tiring day. flash forward to 2019, my dad is like that again, this time my mom actually tells us he drank. we are a little worried, but he’s not acting up or whatever, problem is, he drank some hours before we went to the aparmtment we were going to rent (in which we’re living right now). of course, he drank on purpose because he knew it would piss my mom off and she would be embarassed, but he doesnt give a fuck. thats his way of telling her he’s angry at her for whatever reason. flash forward to some weeks ago, july 2020, my dad drinks again. now, we already know thast he *sometimes* drinks, so were like “ffs he drank again”. but this time its a little different: my mom actually argues with him. they start a discussion because my mom was pissed that he was constantly drinking and said that she would leave him if he could, so he went outside and drank. anyways, they were arguing and then my dad started crying and slammed the door. we went there to try to talk to him, but as soon as my mom opened the door he pushed her using actual strength. if she hadnt had both of her feet stable on the ground, she wouldve fallen and probably hurt herself. he then proceeded to push me but i yelled back at him. i could feel the anger in his voice and how he pushed us. he slammed the door again and threw himself onto the bed face down and started loudly crying, it was just awful. my brother and i went to the kitchen and my mom told us to go there and try tzo talk to him. my brother sat on the bed and i laid against the door. my brother was trying to talk to him and i was cringing really hard. 

[christophe-speaks-blog]

this is a story called addict that i wrote last year in september for my english class. it’s a little shitty, but enjoy

It was December 19th, 2017 when my life changed forever. When I took that first breath of nicotine-infused smoke into my lungs. I watched it swirl out of my mouth, dancing on the frosty December air. I loved it. So I took another drag from it, and another, and another, until all that was left were the glowing embers at the end of the cigarette. I dropped it, smashed it into the black and cracked asphalt, lit another cigarette, and repeated the whole process.

That's when my addiction started. I was fifteen at the time, still am. No one would have guessed that I, Jacob Connors, the perfect “Golden Boy”, would be smoking in an empty parking lot at 2:39 AM on a freezing December night. Well, here I am, doing exactly that.

Now, why I started smoking is a mystery to everyone, except me. I smoke because the reasons no one sees. The wool over their eyes, if you will. All everyone ever sees is my so-called “perfect” life. I’m president of the debate team, I get all A’s and I have since kindergarten, and I have the “perfect” family. My “perfect” mom is the head of the Board of Education, my “perfect” dad is the vice president of Stillwater Mining Company, and my “perfect” brother is MVP on several school sports teams and has girls, and a select few boys, fawning over him.

Well none of that is true. Well, I do get all A’s and I am president of the debate team, but I had to work harder than anyone else in my school to get those things. Also, my family is far from perfect. My mom is a psycho, not literally, but it seems like it. She is so obsessed with the idea of a ‘White Picket Fence Family’. Got problems? The Connors’ have none.

No one can find out the mayor of their town is a raging alcoholic, or her husband’s business is losing employees faster than you can blink, or her youngest son can be heard every night, crying in his room, because he has so much pressure to be perfect, or else she would definitely receive backlash and would be at a risk for impeachment.

For a small town in Montana full of nobodies, everyone here really does put pressure on academics, and sports, and being the best. Being the head of the Board of Education’s eldest son I get more of this pressure than anyone else in this microscopic town.

This town, Whitefish, Montana, to be more specific, is miserable, and so am I.

I finally started smoking when my mother screamed at me for thirty minutes about getting a B plus on a geometry test. That small, small thing is what broke me. Like if a dam has microscopic cracks in it, but one thing led to another, one crack connected many others, finally prompting the structure people thought would be unbreakable to break.

So, I ran. I ran until I couldn't feel my legs, then ran some more. That’s how I arrived here, in the parking lot of an old diner that’s about three miles from my house, smoking a pack of “cancer sticks” as my friend, Zach says.

That brings me here, April 29th, 2018. I, Jacob Connors, am addicted to cigarettes at age fifteen. I hate it. I hate being an addict. I hate being known as ‘Druggie’.  Most of all, I hate myself. I hate myself for ever taking that first drag, for running, for everything.

At the same time, I still love it, I love the feeling of the smoke going into my lungs, I love watching it swirl around and disappear into the air. It’s calming and poetic in a way.

In the time between me starting, and now, my dad took off, about a month ago, taking my little brother with him. He still lives in Montana, about an hour North of me and my mom.

My mom was, and still is, a mess. She still shows up to work and puts food on the table and a roof over our heads, but she’s developed insomnia, as have I. Sometimes neither of us will sleep for two days straight. I usually lie awake on my laptop, scrolling through my Tumblr feed, trying to find something to bore myself into sleeping. I have sleeping pills, but I just see them as little white capsules for me to get addicted to. Tonight was another sleepless night.

I walk into the bathroom, across the carpeted hallway, onto the cold white tiles, the bright LED lights attacking my eyes. I took a minute to adjust to the bright light.

I looked into the mirror, looking at who I had become. My brown hair, once neat and clean-cut was now almost to my shoulders, often put back into a ponytail. I had a little bit of a stubble around my face and neck. The bags under my eyes were like grocery bags that were too full, I didn’t bother doing anything about it.

I was once slightly muscular. I’ve never been athletic, but I had muscles, emphasis on the word had. Now I was just skin and bone. That made the insomnia even harder. Due to the lack of fuel given to my body, it made me more exhausted than I already was. My lips were chapped and faded and my teeth, once white and pristine, had a yellowish tint, from the cigarettes. For a while I tried to hide my addiction, and make it look like I still cared about my looks, but honestly, I didn’t.

I’m trying to lessen my addiction by distracting myself. I’m out of the house more, often at my best friend Zach Collins’s house, however I make sure to check up on my mom every few hours, making sure she doesn't do anything stupid while she’s drunk.

I wish I could stop smoking. I mean, I wish I never started, but now I can’t stop. My grades have plummeted. I went from straight A’s to C’s and D’s, I dropped the debate team, and I've stopped eating more than a meal a day.  My life is going downhill, fast. These were my typical thoughts when I lay awake at night, unable to sleep.

The next morning, when I sat down at our kitchen island, my mother was sipping a cup of black coffee and looking at something on our phone, “Morning,” I said sleepily, my throat sore.

“Oh, I didn’t even see you, good morning,” she said. She seemed almost...happy?

“Mom? Are you okay? You’re acting different,” I said cautiously.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I actually got to sleep last night, but I found a support group that might help you. Actually I found us both support groups,” she said softly, not wanting me to shy away from the idea.

I sighed, she had found me support groups in the past, let’s just say they didn’t work out, “Mom, I don't want a repeat of the church groups.”

“Oh, no no no, those were awful, this one won’t be like the others, they won’t scream, or tell you this can’t be fixed, or anything like that,” she said, and that moment, I saw something I hadn’t seen in awhile. I saw my mother genuinely smile.

“Fine,” I said.

I didn’t go to these support groups because I thought they would help, I went because I want to make my mother happy.

That night would be my start to recovery. I met six other kids in the same situation as me. My mom also got help, she and I went to our groups every Wednesday and we are both on our way to recovery.

Now it’s June 18, 2020 and today, I am graduating. I'm eight months sober now, and I’m happier than ever. My mother and I are slowly trying to rebuild our lives.

My mom has stopped drinking, she’s seven months sober and I’m really proud of her.

I think we are going to be okay. We’ve had a hell of a ride, but I think we can finally be a less dysfunctional family that loves and supports each other.

[roomalthoughts]

counseling (recovered post #10)

“Recovery begins at exactly that moment when you are completely broken to pieces and must surrender to unfamiliar and uncomfortable ways in order to rebuilt into who you were meant to be.” -unknown

“Always focus on how far you’ve come rather than how far you have left to go.” -unknown

“Be brave enough to stand alone, smart enough to know when you need help and brave enough to ask for it.” -unknown

This is going to be the most difficult blog post I’m going to write. I struggle a lot with being open about my struggles with depression and anxiety and it’s something I feel like it makes me a “weak person” (if that makes any sense, probably not). Today’s society, there’s still that stigma that mental health illness carries and it’s still somewhat of a taboo subject, especially with suicide. It kind of sucks seeing that, but I do see a better future for the younger generation.

When I was first diagnosed with anxiety back in 2014, I was surprised because I was doing a test to see if I still needed extra resources for college (I was diagnosed with a learning disability before I entered kindergarten). The lady that tested me was a complete…let’s say, she wasn’t so nice (there was another word I wanted to say, but I’m trying to stay PG as possible). She was rude and she got me nervous because I wasn’t sure what the hell I was doing and so of course, my mind went blank. I’m no genius or dumb, but when I saw the results, it literally said: “Cynthia should think twice about going to college because I don’t think she has what it takes to graduate from college.”

Let me tell you, I seriously was pissed off when I read that statement.

With that, the lady told me that I wasn’t mature enough and my math, reading and writing skills were below average for your typical 18 year-old. But what struck me the most was when she said that I had generalized anxiety disorder…she noticed that I got really nervous and anxious for the test to be over. It was 8am and of course, I didn’t have breakfast and I thought it was going to be a easy, peasy, lemon queasy test..but I was so wrong. How she figured it out is still a mystery to me, but she nailed it.

It answered questions that I had when I was in high school. Why would I start shaking when there was a test in class? Why would I feel like I’m about to puke on the pool deck before a swim meet? Why would I start overthinking every little detail? It made sense. I remember my first high school swim meet, one of the coaches said: “Cynthia, your face is green? Are you okay?” Shy me shook my head no, but I was lying because I saw my dad there…and I knew that I had to perform well or I would get the silent treatment or get yelled at on my way home.

My dad was one of the reasons why I would start shaking and get nervous when he was at my swim meets. I knew that if I didn’t drop time or I didn’t beat a certain girl from the other team, I would get yelled at and it would piss me off more. There was a time, when I was a sophomore where he pulled my hair and kicked my back in front of my mother after I came home from practice. I didn’t go to practice the next day because my back was hurting and I was afraid my teammates would see the bruise I had on my back. When I got offered to swim for a college in Ohio, my dad flat out said: “You think you’re good enough to swim for them? They don’t want losers like you.”

That forever stayed in my mind and to this day, I REGRET not taking that chance to swim in college. I beat myself up every time I see someone that I knew of having a great time swimming for their dream college.

Along with my dad being verbally abusive, he also taunted me when it came to my weight. I’m 5’5 and I weigh around 170 at the moment. So I’ve always been a very buff girl with thunder thighs and a wide waist that God blessed me with (haha, oh). He would always say that I was a cow and fat and that he wishes that I was skinner. That did it for me. I forced myself to throw up or even skip lunch on and off from my sophomore year to my freshman year in college. I still struggle with self-image and there are times where I get so caught up with my weight, I literally drive myself mad. I have to control myself so I won’t relapse.

Fast forward to the end of my freshman year. I was going through so much stuff, it’s hard for me to say what really tipped me over the edge. But I will say that I stopped eating for two months and lost close to 30 pounds. I weighed 150 at that time and I went down to 127. My mom caught me throwing away food and she saw how weak and fragile I was. I wouldn’t eat the food she made (which she knew something was wrong because she knows I love her cooking). Doctor looked at me and said, “You have depression sweetheart.”

He immediately saw the pain in my eyes and he wasn’t wrong. All the signs were there. I would sleep for most of the day. I lost appetite and lost interest in the things that I loved the most. Once the school year started, my doctor told me to go to counseling so I wouldn’t relapse again. My first counselor was a sassy lady, who was a lady that I admired so much because she always made me laugh towards the end of my sessions. I remember just being really reserved about my life at first, but she gave me that little nudge to open up and it was great. There were times that I would start crying when I talked about my dad and all the things he did to me.

Most importantly, my first counselor taught me how to love myself. She taught me that it is okay to feel down and depressed but the minute that those thoughts start haunting me, to go outside and look at the skies. I always went to the Winona Lake park close to sunset time and I would just stare at how the skies turned into pretty colors. The pink, orange and purple always made my heart happy. I smiled and admired God’s artwork. It was my escape for most of my school year going into junior year of college.

After my first counselor graduated, I decided to not go back to counseling for my junior year and just went with the flow. I was dating someone at that time, that I thought was good to me, but eventually came out that he was no good for me. The person that he was trying to pretend wasn’t the real him. We were falling apart towards the following year, close to June and broke up in July. Got back together the next day and it just went downhill from there. Found out he had someone already waiting for me to leave and just like that, I was replaced. Did it hurt? Of course it did.

I HATE to admit that breakup did break me once again. I hate to admit it, but it is the truth. I was in despair because I had no idea how it all went wrong. I was blinded by the “love” he said he had for me, when in reality it was just misery. Things happened in that relationship that I’m not proud of, but it is in the past and there’s nothing I can do. I was incredibly naive and I didn’t know he was playing with my feelings. I didn’t know that all he wanted was sex and it was just physical. We would always end up fighting because I was too stubborn for him and he once said that he regretted being with me for a year.

Ouch.

That hurt so much when he said that and it brought tears in my eyes when he said that. He would also say how much he hated my short hair and I tried to grow it out as quickly as I could. I tried to CHANGE for him and that wasn’t love. Never was. To this day, I’m still traumatized when it comes to relationships. I’m still terrified that the next guy will do the same thing and I don’t think I will be able to handle it. This shows that I still got more healing to do.

All that misery ate me alive for two weeks until I decided to swallow my pride and reach out for help once again. I did the usual routine to get into counseling and not even two hours passed, I got an email that I got in and I was supposed to come back to campus around four in the afternoon. I was shocked because how quickly they responded but I would never have guessed that my second counselor would be someone who would push me to become a better person.

My counselor was a guy and I giggled when I saw that it was going to be a guy because I’m like “this will be more fun and relaxing. I got guy friends.”

Wrong.

This second time around was more different. This counselor paid more attention to my body language and the small details. He’s a great guy, don’t get me wrong, but there were times where I thought, “is he flirting or nah?” Joking aside, he’s a man of God and was truly humble and down to earth. He was so helpful and let me talk his mind out every Friday. He always challenged me to do something that I’ve never done before. He got me into reading the Bible once again and showed me the love and grace that God has for me. It was such a fun journey with him because it felt like we were more friends than just strangers. I grew to admire him little by little and show him that I dearly cared about him as well. He would also share small details about his life and his dreams, which was pretty cool. My first counselor was more reserved on those topics, but this man, swear he was like an open book.

He also taught me one very important lesson that I will always carry in my heart. Never give up. Doesn’t matter what life throws at you, you get up and keep going. Along with him being a counselor, he was a motivator and pushed me to get where I’m at right now. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be the same old smiley, joking around, pulling pranks on everyone me. I would still be miserable and bitter about life. Along with that, the first thing he said to me was “Cynthia, you have a lot to offer. Your presence lightens up this room and the way you are blunt is funny and it’s a rare trait to have.”

With that statement, I almost cried when he said that because he was showing me how he saw me and it was an awesome experience. When I decided that I was ready to move on, he told me that he was impressed with my progress and that ever since he first saw me, he prayed to God every night that I would make it through the week. He admitted that I made his Friday mornings better.

It was hard saying goodbye (even though he claims it just a see you around thing). God has blessed me with two fantastic counselors and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. They were the gems that I found during my path and I’m going to keep them close to my heart. It’s hard knowing that they are going down their own paths and I would never cross paths with them ever again.

Counseling is such an awesome experience and it did really help me recover every time I had a downfall. I discover myself once again and just realize that I really do got a lot to offer. I just have to be patient. While I use this time, I’m giving myself time to change and be better. I always think “Take it day by day. Don’t rush anything and just let it be. Go with the flow and be happy.”

[hello2nobody]

Journal Entry #1 Toxic Friendships

June 26th, 2018

A friend is the person you can always rely on and be open too. Someone to have your back for the rest of your life, to share memories with, to attend your biggest accomplishments, to make your life a little more brighter. We don’t think about it much but being a friend is an incredible title to uphold, which is why toxic friendships can be just as dangerous as a toxic lover or family member.

I found pictures from kindergarten of her sitting with me on the craft covered tables, and one standing by a frumpy snowman accessorized in beaded necklaces that my twin sister and her had built together, but I’m sure it was in grade one when she came up to my sister and I asking which one was which. We were standing around a platform that led to a set of monkey bars of the “Wooden Playground” which kindergartners to third graders were not allowed to play on. That’s what the “Rainbow Playground” was for. I can’t remember what was going on in school, some sort of event where all the parents and their kids ate hot dogs in the gymnasium. It was just Cassidy, my sister, and I, and from what I can remember a chilly sun set at the Wooden Playground when the three of us became best friends.

It wasn’t very long after befriending each other did we face out first conflict. Out of nowhere in Ms. Meads’ class she handed me a note, in her cute bubbly writing I was always envious of, that we were no longer friends. I bursted into tears and when Ms. Meads asked me what was wrong I showed her the note and she took Cassidy to the hallway to speak to her. When Cassidy came back we were friends again. Little tearful me was going to have to get used to it though. Used to Cassidy writing to me that she doesn’t want me as friend, whether it be because I was not a fun as my sister, I was too annoying, I did something to upset her, or for no reason at all. Then after treating me coldly for a week or two- silent treatments and glaring looks when she made “new friends” and literally running away from me, she’ll talk to me casually as if nothing happened. If I ever thought she was being mean, unfair, or lying I’d do nothing. I never stood up for myself. I would apologize for things I didn’t do.

I can’t blame her for not wanting to be friends with me. I wouldn’t want to be friends with me either. Annoying, clingy, naive, a total idiot. I would agree with everything she said even if I didn’t, I would echoe her, I copied her handwriting, I even picked up how she talked. Since we were friends then we always had to be on the same page 24/7, right? I didn’t want to stir anything up but she always found a way to do it for me.

Cassidy was a pathological liar. Someone who constantly lies and makes up stories, usually for attention, with no guilt. Her more ridiculous lies were the ones like having a glass eye, watching a girl stabbed by a bull’s horns, seeing a tornado in front of her house, and all the damn boyfriends she had in middle school. She’d get defensive and mad if you ever confronted her and never backed down so it was better to play along like she totally was getting a new boyfriend every month. Even if said boyfriend goes to class and has never even looked her way much less talk to her.

Middle school is when it all went downhill. Whenever Cassidy was sick or couldn’t make it to school my sister and I had no one to hang out with because Cassidy was our only friend. It’s not like elementary where you can jump in with any group of kids and play tag with them and have a grand old time. You can’t just eat lunch with a group in the cafeteria uninvited. That’s just weird. There was this one girl from elementary, Etenesh, who sat alone in the cafeteria. So on the days Cassidy was gone we spent lunch with her. Eventually Cassidy and Etenesh became close friends.

I want to make it clear I was not jealous the slightest bit. I may have been annoyingly clingy but I was never possessive. Having a new friend was great. I even considered Etenesh as my other best friend (whether those feelings were reciprocated, I’m not sure) and I was proud to see Cassidy and Etenesh become friends. Cassidy wanted to spend more time with Etenesh and she’d give me a note telling my sister and I not to hang out with the two of them at lunch. When we ran into each other, the two would run away laughing and being the idiot I was I’d chase after them thinking it was like a game of tag. Cassidy actually got fed up with it one day and downright told me not to be with them, which is the only time I can remember she’d say anything like that to my face and not in writing.

No disrespect to my twin sister, but eating lunch with just the two of us felt lonely. No. Not lonely. I was just ashamed. Middle school was a shit-hole and I never felt more insecure about myself more than I was in middle school, and Cassidy never helped whenever she called me anorexic and writing to me how she didn’t want to be friends with me anymore before proceeding to give me the cold shoulder. My sister and I ate lunch hiding on the maze like wheelchair ramp at the front entrance for the school. When people walked by my heart would race, my palms would sweat, and my brain would tease me. I was so worried that these people were thinking how pathetic I was for not having any friends to eat with.

Cassidy seemed to be getting in some trouble with other students. I remember this “popular girl” and her posse cornered us in front of a classroom door during morning break. They were upset at something Cassidy said on Facebook (maybe it was when she was pretending to date her boyfriend). It was intimidating. I felt sick. Hot in the face and a little dizzy. All I can remember was the girl taunting us with a fake smile, saying “Listen, sweet cheeks” before I bolted because I thought I was going to throw up. I didn’t even realize Cassidy and my sister followed behind me.

A similar thing happened the same year. There was this “popular girl” who we went to elementary school that really liked my cupcake scented hand sanitizer and was always asking to give her some. She was practically huffing it. Anyways I walked into school finding her and her friends were waiting outside the girl’s washroom. They told me Cassidy was inside and they wanted to talk to her about “a list” and something related to Facebook, but Cassidy showed herself. I just stood there with her in the washroom with no idea what was going on. While I was in class I got called down to the office and they asked me if I knew anything about the list. I said I didn’t and they let me go with no problems.

Halfway through the first year of middle school is when this Facebook fiasco began to affect my sister and I directly. One day in Mrs. Rypien’s classroom during morning break this group of boys in our grade walked in the class telling us that their friend Jameel was “caramel”. They were all talking at once but it seemed like they believed my sister or me made a comment on Jameel’s skin colour so they stood up for their friend in a joking way. After that mess Cassidy told us someone hacked into my sister’s second Facebook account.

Did I emphasize how much of an idiot I was back then? Because I was a huge idiot. I couldn’t put two and two together to realize how bad this could’ve potentially been, and neither did my sister. We were so passive about the situation and not many people confronted us about Facebook. My sister did still put in a bit of effort trying to delete the account and using her first Facebook account to tell everyone that the second account didn’t belong to her.

Now you might be wondering, why did my sister have two Facebook accounts and why wasn’t I doing anything on Facebook to help? Well for the last one: I was paranoid about people finding my home address through Facebook and breaking into the house so I avoided the social media site like the plague. I’ve never had a Facebook account to this day and I never used the one Cassidy made me which goes to why my sister had two accounts. Back in elementary school we’d talk online using MSN but when MSN started to become a thing in the past to make 90′s kids feel old, Cassidy wanted us to use Facebook, so she made the accounts for us. 

So the Facebook account was made by Cassidy who has already had Facebook drama with the girls at school, there was a post on the account that said “I’m anorexic and I’m proud”, and another post that said that Cassidy and this guy from school would make a “cute couple” (which funnily enough he denied). To top it off Etenesh told my sister and I that she was messaging the account and said “I know it’s you, [Cassidy]” to which she was replied with “How did you know?”. It’s an obvious deduction that it was Cassidy. It would be obvious but after being friends- not just friends, best friends- for six years now, it wasn’t clear for me or my sister.

We did everything together. We’d spend most our free time together, come to each other’s house so often that our parents were sick of it, we celebrated each of our birthdays every year, we made up games like the pain game where we threw a big rubber ball as hard as we can in this confine space near the entrances at elementary school and let it ricochet off the walls until someone was inevitably hit. Mrs. Rypien said the two of us were “attached to the hip”. Despite all the fall outs we’d have we’d still wound up being friends again, and despite how clingy I was it was because I really did value her as a best friend just as much as my sister did. So when we asked Cassidy if it was true that she hacked the account, we didn’t hesitate to leave the situation alone when she said she was innocent. After that year I never heard anything about Facebook.

First day of grade eight. Mr. Saler’s class. My sister accompanied me when I looked for the classroo. Myself, Cassidy, and Etenesh were all in the same class and my sister was elsewhere, just like last year. The two of us were always in separate classes to force us to socialize with people other than each other. When I found the class a girl asked my sister if she was in Mr. Saler’s. I somewhat recognized her. She was in my sister’s class last year, I’ve heard her name. Cassandra. I only saw her once in grade seven, she walked with my sister and I to the bus one time. She had a lot of pimples. Other than that I knew nothing about her.

Isabalita moved to Canada from the Philippines and was a new face in our school. We befriended her and some time in the first week of school we were all standing outside school during lunch. Standing on the sloped pavement between the doorway at the back of the school and the grassy field. I don’t know when but it became a thing for us to attack each other by poking each other’s sides. Cassidy who was wide open and Isabalita pounced. Cassidy flinched and stepped back awkwardly due to the sloped pavement and her iPhone slipped from the pocket of her royal blue hoodie, the school hoodie, and like a piece of buttered toast fell on the worst side possible. She picked up her phone and there were cracks sprawled all over the screen. Isabalita apologized profusely but Cassidy let it go.

The night the phone was shattered I was messaging Cassidy using the iPad my dad got us for our birthday. She started accusing my sister that she was the one who broke the phone even though we were all there to see it happen. She conjured up this story that my sister was playing with her phone and recklessly dropped it so the screen was already shattered before what happened with Isabalita. Now we had to pay her eighty dollars to fix her phone. My brain could be mixing things up but I have this memory it might have even been eight hundred, but I’m going with eighty because I hope Cassidy didn’t underestimate our gullibility that much. I knew that my sister didn’t break the phone and I saw the look of terror on Cassidy’s face when we were outside. The face of someone who shattered their phone screen for the first time. So we argued a bit and another cold shoulder was ensued. Nothing new.

The same time this was happening Cassidy was making new friends through Etenesh. Etenesh was becoming close friends with these two girls in class. They were both fairly popular, one was extroverted and had a lot of friends, the other was very pretty and preppy. They both played soccer so they were like preppy jocks. Double edged swords. My sister and I were eating our lunches alone again. We tried eating with Isabalita but we didn’t click and never really talked. Same with when I tried to spend my free time in class with her but was eventually thwarted when another Filipino girl transferred in my class. I hated how Mr. Saler would give us a couple minutes of free time before the bell rang because everyone would go into their groups while I sat on my desk alone, doodling.

When Cassidy and I reached the whole pretending our argument never happened phase I still hung around her less because she was spending time with Etenesh and the two girls. Because I was a loser, the two girls didn’t want to be friends with me. Not that I could blame them. Cassidy even texted me one day after school “You know (blank) and (blank) hate you right?” and told me to stop talking to them as well as tell me how her and the extroverted girl have become best friends. Rubbing salt in the wound. Though there was this time Cassidy was coming over for a sleepover and invited the preppy girl without our consent. My mom wasn’t happy about the surprise guest when I told her on the phone. The preppy girl had to leave early because of an appointment she had. I played along but I knew she texted her mom to pick her up early and frankly I was more relieved than offended.

During one of the dreadful free times I noticed Cassandra was reading a Harry Potter book by herself in the classroom. She did every day, I was just too worried about myself to realize sooner. So I walked up to her and asked her about the book. My sister and I asked if we could eat lunch with Cassandra and her group. I recognized two faces from grade seven. One of the girl’s I attended her birthday slumber party. The other one I remember passing notes too in Mr. Hooper’s class and she would purposely screech her desk closer to mine before passing a note then loudly scooting back. She wrote down how she was as sneaky as a ninja. She also read a note Cassidy gave me one day when I was out the classroom. The note said how we weren’t friends anymore, how I was annoying, and my art wasn’t very good. When I came back she told me how mean the note was and not to take it seriously.

My sister and I had friends without Cassidy for the first time. I never wanted to go back to Cassidy. After making new friends I realized what a bad friend Cassidy was. I loved my new friends, and while we eventually fell out and went different ways one by one I was still happy. I still texted Cassidy from time to time when she got an actual boyfriend. I also came to comfort her and her sister when their foster dad passed away from brain cancer. Part of me wishes I was there for her more during that time because her new more popular friends turned out to be fake.

One day Cassidy wasn’t at school and during math class the extroverted girl loudly pronounced in conversation how she did not like Cassidy and was only pretending to be friends with her. The other one agreed. Even Etenesh said she didn’t really like Cassidy. The whole class was listening in. I texted Cassidy after school that day and she said she’d talk to them about it and it seems like everything was swept under the rug. I was, and still am, mad at the girls for talking about her like that, but I realized I was not much different. When Cassidy wasn’t present at school my sister and I would complain to Etenesh how she treated us like dirt and expected us to always take it and crawl back to her without picking a fight. I was mad at the time when Etenesh told Cassidy what we said, but it’s only the same when Etenesh told us about the Facebook account and how I told Cassidy about math class. She had every right to know.

In grade nine we barely spoke to each other. The only thing I can remember was asking her what class she was in despite already knowing the answer. She dodged the question. She was in the A class, the class for students struggling academically. It was probably the passing of her dad that pulled her down. I don’t know why I even asked. I didn’t mean to make her feel ashamed or anything I was just an idiot. She made friends with these two girls in that class. I was with my friends when I saw her and this other girl running away giggling from the other.

The first day of high school I was looking for my name and class through the multiple lists laid out on a wooden table along with a group of other students who, like me, were a little late. Cassidy was among them. When I saw her name I avoided telling her. I just kept searching for mine. When we fell out there were no arguments, “you know what”s, or last laughs. We just stopped talking or texting and stayed with our new friends. However, there was always this itch that there was a bad note left when we stopped being friends. I think we both came to acknowledge we were not good friends for each other, and that our friendship was a mess. I mustered the courage and pointed to the list and told her I saw her name. She thanked me and rushed to her class.

I didn’t see her for the rest of the year, or the year after that. If I did they were only glimpses of her in the hallways or sitting in the New Media room. I saw her little sister at school more than her. When I was in grade twelve, in my last quarter, I finally had a class with her- Art. I didn’t see her that often. There were two art rooms and we used different ones. I didn’t want to be friends with her again, but I wanted to talk to her. I disliked the tension between us. How I can never look at her in the eye or smile at her. Even though acting like nothing happened always bugged me when we were friends, when we weren’t friends it killed me. 

Another thing is I discovered I wasn’t a good friend either. It’s not just my idiocy and how annoying I was, I was insensitive and ignorant to her and her feelings. I didn’t talk to her enough on a personal level just as much as I didn’t listen. I was always a yes man when it came to her I didn’t get to stand my own ground. That was just acting like a friend not being one. I wasn’t reliable enough like true friend would be. I think maybe she wanted to me leave her, like those people that purposely ruin a relationship because they can’t break up with the person.

I couldn’t even remember her fucking birthday. They day I wanted to talk to her. I was using the computer in the other art room she used, telling myself to say “happy birthday” when I saw her but when she arrived not only did a chicken out another girl asked “was it your birthday yesterday?” and wished her a happy belated birthday when the answer was “yes” when I thought it was “no”.

It wasn’t until graduation that we talked. We had finished the Grand March, an event to replace prom probably because prom was too risque for a Catholic school. The Grand March was for the students to dress up and walk around the Enmax centre with their loved ones watching in the seats. It was a time for the girls to show off their beautiful dresses and the suited men to accessorise them. I wore a simple slimming blue dress and my mom put flowers in my braided hair even though I dislike having my hair pulled back because I still think it makes me look ugly. My sister wore a dark red dress we got from an event at YWCA where they gave away old prom dresses for free. She had a silicone padding because her breast looked uneven and we never noticed it fell out until when we were back home it was gone. 

Anyways, after the Grand March there was a “dance” where everyone stood around and talked and parents snapped as many photos of their babies all grown up as they could. Cassidy was the one who came up to my sister and I. She complimented our dresses and we complimented her. When my mom came down she was surprised to see the girl who used to come for sleepovers almost every weekend a few years ago. My mom said she’s changed a lot and after a long pause she said she’s gotten prettier but we all knew what she meant. Cassidy gained a lot of weight. I’d say over two hundred pounds. She use to tease the fat kids in middle school so I think it was karma. I remember her grad speech mentioned wanting to attend culinary school in Vancouver. We had a small friendly conversation and my mom took some pictures of the three of us. We said we’ll talk again and went our separate ways and just like that a huge load was lifted off my shoulders.

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