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libbee · 2 years

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Life lessons and astro lessons

Parents who traumatize you don't really intend to traumatize you. I have moon in 8th house; my parents were emotionally and psychologically abusive. Throughout my teenage, I was just tolerating a lot. I held a lot of resentment against my parents for traumatizing my development years. But now I realize that my parents didnt know what they were doing. They thought they were disciplining me and making me a good person. They did not know healthy ways to talk, punish and raise children. It is hard to swallow but it is the truth.

Not everyone will get their karma. I have seen a lot of people committing infidelity, financial crimes, lying, manipulating, abusing others but they do not face any setbacks. They go on living comfortable lives. Conversely, if an 8th house native tries to copy them, he will face karmic consequences, disease or being exposed in public or public image tarnished or career setbacks. 8th house placements keep giving you karmic lessons but a lot of people without 8th house placements feel no consequences at all. For eg, I saw man cheating on wife but his public image is flawless. People even call him "so innocent and modest man".

You have to unlearn a lot of things you were taught since childhood. Unless your parents and surroundings were spiritual and self aware, the fact is you would be acting our unconsciously things you learned directly or indirectly growing up. Once you realize that everything you were told was wrong, you start to unlearn everything and relearn things using your own thought process, self reflection, psychological education and mindfulness.

Although ethics and morality are called subjective in universal basis (sometimes even legal. For eg, adultery is legally punishable is some countries but not in others), however on karmic plane, all actions have their consequences. It is simply fatalism, cause and effect, domino effect. It is very hard to figure out what actions cause what consequences but suffice to say that your inner conscience tells you when you have done something wrong or right.

How others see you and how you see others is your "perception". You perceive your parents, partner, friends. You don't objectively see them how they are. You only see them from your own perspective. Different placements have different perspective. Water placements are emotional and deeply feelings based. In personality disorders like BPD, the person does not perceive himself and others in a right manner. He is intensely emotional and acts on his feelings.

Most of us act "right" because we fear consequences of doing wrong. If there were no consequence at all, not many people would choose to act right. There is no such thing as unconditional love. Parents and partner love you because they want emotional needs, want good karma for themselves and don't want to face the consequences of neglect/abuse (society saying "look, he doesn't provide for his wife/family).

Conmen are not always doing crimes, doing frauds, being players. Most conmen are in your family and surroundings. Many people use spiritual wisdom and rote memorize one liners, philosophy liners, spiritual liners to impress others and present a fake persona. For eg, many times people who claim to be spiritual and doing self improvement are actually completely lying. Behind the scenes, they commit all sorts of bad things (smoking, drinking, cheating) but pretend to be so innocent, wise, spiritual and even convince you that they are so great. Beware of these conmen who play with your psychology.

Conflicts and disagreements are a part of life. Water placements people will benefit from knowing that they dont need to run from disagreements to avoid hurting their feelings. You are not supposed to be happy and friendly 24x7 with others. You are supposed to argue, self reflect and improve yourself.

Sometimes life seems to be meaningless nihilist. If you try to create a meaning in life, you can choose to. Most of the times, we find meaning in life because our actions directly and remotely impact other people. For eg, if a kid gets good scores in exam, his parents will be happy, he will get awards, etc. If he gets into good college, his career will improve, his actions will impact his friends, etc. If he starts doing job, he will impact lifestyle of his family, productivity of his nation, his job will impact lives of other people. Doing things for other people gives a lot of meaning to life (and also this is how karma works).

10. There are some people who are genuinely good people, for eg. those who fit into "the innocent" archetype (many water placements natives who have matured and evolved are self aware and rightful in their actions). And then there are others who pretend to be good people because they know this is what the world wants to see. I personally find inauthentic people intolerable but it takes experience and brainwork to be able to spot fake people.

11. Astrology tells you about yourself, your life theme and time frame when things will happen in your life. You dont need to convince others that "astrology is real, astrology works, astrology is scientific etc". You see validation of truth of astrology when things happen in your life according to your chart. Every single person is living according to their charts; whether they understand astrology or not is their destiny. Most people are simply not meant for occult. No need to convince them or argue them.

12. Most of what you see in movies and media is lies. They are fantasy. They are idealism. Somtimes some passionate people make good movie or song as art but most of it is crap for money and benefits only. Even then, art really adds no value to your life except to 1. express your personality 2. manifest your symbolic mind 3. relax your stress and provide relief from chaos buzzing of life and 4. if you are a professional, yes it can add monetary value to your life too. But don't really trust movies and music. They are deceptive and Rahu illusions.

13. Some people are naturally funny. Sense of humor takes natural skills and practice. Air placements Gemini, Libra, Sagittarius can be really funny. They are the ones to write and act in sitcoms. Look up chart of your favourite comedian and see their sun and moon placements. I have Gemini moon and was the funniest clown in my class. I was totally silly and shameless comedian. Now I have sobered up though. 😉😉

#astro community #astrology observations #astrology #astro observations #shadow self #occult #astroblr #8th house #astro notes #astro tumblr #astrology and mental illness #astrology blog #astrology notes #dark astrology

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5eraphim · 9 months

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venting below abt work/ex-job

this is partially a vent + call for advice + inquiry into the thoughts of outsiders on this matter

boss from a job ive quit like three times (it's complicated) sent me this

like- bitch, last time i worked for you i was complaining all the time and wasnt even that good at my job, i am not nearly hot enough to warrant this much chasing- whyyy is he doin all this?? 😭

hes never done anything physically inappropriate, but i feel like he sees me as way more than an employee and it greatly effects his behavior around me and its always made me super uncomfortable :/ esp bc other people notice how he gives me "special treatment " respond with resentment.

i remember this one time we were winding down after a night and i got this onetop guy and, i didnt really have anything better to do and i thought he was cute and i kinda-sorta started flirting with the guy who (not to go into detail) returned the attention, so to speak. which look i get it- not proper to do at work, but thing is, literally everyone does it at least once, and NO ONE actually cares. but the one time i do it this guy got PISSED and started yelling at me in front of the dining room (he didn't call me out for flirting, but he was like- "why are you wasting your time with this one table, youre slacking off/ forgot to do (x) thing/ you're doing this wrong" and im not lying- the one top guy asked for his check the second i returned to his table bc he was so disgusted hearing my boss act so rude to me. and wrote a little "im sorry he did that, you're doing great" message on the back of his receipt.

im the type to keep work and home life as separate as possible, but im from a super small town (population >2100) and everyone is always in everyone's business and i HATE it. im trying my hardest to get my shit together and leave this town, but i feel like he tries to guilt trip me a lot bc he knows im a push over and takes advantage of it :(

also of note, ive also walked in/by his office and found adult videos playing on fullscreen twice, which was super uncomfortable, but i didnt say anything bc i was very, very happy pretending it didnt happen. oh and, shout out to that one time i no called/no showed to a shift bc i wanted to be fired and he straight up showed up my house.

creep.

#.txt #fuck this guy fr fr #i wish i were better at saying no #and like setting hard boundaries but ive always been such a pushover it's EMBARRASSING

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slcters · 4 years

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「 avan jogia. cismale. he/him. 」i hope that #lexsquad member「 SLATER MALIH SAVALIA 」adds me to the squad ! the 「 TWENTY THREE 」year old 「 LAW 」 major has been apart of the squad since 「 OCTOBER 2018」and seems to be the 「 DELPHIC 」of the group.「 SLATER」is a「 SENIOR」 and seems to enjoy 「 WRITING & PLAYING MUSIC 」but you can always find them at a squad party , too !

TW: CHEATING, ABANDONMENT, PORN MENTION, DEATH, DRUGS

Anyways lemme give you some info about my man and try to keep it as short ( I lied ) as possible I’ll have some wanted connections at the end so hit me up to plot cause I live for that :)

NAME: SLATER MALIH SAVALIA AGE: 23 MAJOR: PRE- LAW SENIOR @ LEX POSITION: A DADDY HOBBIES: givin 0 Fucks, living life to the full, writing, being an PI on his dad, spiting his family n causing problems as a FUCK U. BORN: LONDON, ENGLAND. SEXUALITY: A truE WILD BISEXUAL :”)

BACKGROUND:

So Slater was born in London, England however when he was younger he moved around a lot with his parents until they settled in LA. Mainly for his dads business and his mum had previously lived there too.

His mum was a travel writer which explains why they traveled a lot, his father runs a few escort agencies + brothels ( nevada only we do it legal here ) and also started up his own pornographic production company / film studio in LA. it would probably now be one of the biggest in the world. ( think vivid entertainment meets brazzers ) u know FILTHY RICH SHIT.

Both his parents were obviously away quite a lot, his dad ran so many businesses and hmm was hands-on lets say but the household was pretty calm when he was fairly young. his mum was super attentive and loving and just such an amazing role model and always wanted to take him with her to show him the world when she had to leave. i think he definitely was a mummas boy.

at about 8/9 however would’ve been when things kind of came crashing down for him. he really caught his dad cheating on his mum w/ one of the porn stars he hired from the studio. His dad would’ve really asked him NOT to tell him mum because it would break their family up. obviously, slater was like terrified of the chance of losing his family so he just pretended nothing ever happened.

he was so conflicted because he was keeping this huge secret and he had so much guilt but he didn’t wanna be the one to ruin things. Like his dad basically used him as a cover like expecting him to lie for him for a long time. it would’ve really eaten away at him. like it would’ve not been a one-time thing, but slater was in denial for sure.

i think one day slater would’ve slipped up in one of his lies for his dad and his mum ended up fighting out what happened and it was such a mess. it would've led to their divorce and god that was.. SOO messy. they defs didnt have a prenup and like the custody.

I think lowkey he was miserable being with his dad, he had so much resentment and sadness there. he would’ve been okay being with his mum the whole time.

His dad was really the type of parent that would use his kids against each his ex wife like they would use slater to pass on messages and being like no u can’t have him for that day etc etc And not taken slater into consideration.

his dad though really tried his absolute best to bring his mum down which was sooo sad to see, like watching her get put through the ringer by his dad and she just became a bit of a shell of who she was, because he obviously had more than enough money to do it and didn’t want her to see a dime of it even tho he.. RLLY BE LIVING THE HIGH LIFE.

slater would’ve just been back and forth between them both up until he was about 15 when his mum, unfortunately, passed away due to drugs. which was SO UNEXPECTED. i think there was definitely a lot more to it, like she definitely was self-medicating to help go through the still pending divorce. which would’ve lasted years.

anyways losing his mum devastated slater because truly she was like a best friend to him, she was. he always enjoyed the weeks at his mums more than his dad and now he knew he’d be stuck there.

he fights a lot with his dad still about everything that happened and what he did, he blames him for it and putting a LITERAL KID in the middle.

anyways though since the separation his dad had like a myriad of “ girlfriends” around who were probably all young enough to be like a step sibling tbh. he never took to any of them until his stepmom. who shockingly he actually really likes. shes one thing keeping his family together atm.

Anyways as you can imagine slaters dads business was huge and his dad is truly raking in the money but slater has always felt uncomfortable spending or even benefiting off it which is why he’s extremely secretive considering he knows where it comes from and he doesn’t exactly support his dad let alone he doesn’t want to have to explain that to people and get them looking into his family.

his father has really tried and put up this front though as if he’s a huge family man now and is conservative and super religious and smh that pissed off slater to the max. he’s like that dont make no fucking sense..

when he high school hit though they were going to country clubs all that shit slater hated basically. he truly didn’t mind acting out just to spite his dad knowing hey your a family man what are you gonna do about it??

this drove his dad so crazy and only meant more rules were put on him, it was about the only attention his dad gave him.

when hey fight though its really wild, you know slater throws it in his dads face basically just some fucking pimp and exploits people and he’s never gonna do that and he’d rather have nothing than follow in his footsteps

i think his dad has been fined multiple times for some shady shit going on in his businesses. plus its been common knowledge in the depths of the industry they heavily provide them w/ alcohol drugs etc. probably has had an issue with the treatment of the people hes hired. lawsuits. there's more under the surface that even slater doesnt know.

there would’ve been a bit of a scandal where his dad employed one of his dumbass country club friends daughters aka someone even slater knew to star in one of his adult films

but regardless like he knew he really was fortunate he lived an extremely privileged life, like he would be set for life, could sit do nothing and its good. he just never had a huge interest in it unlike his father who really always said that he would take over everything someday and it would turn into a huge family business. and he was like yikes someone come tell him.. no thanks.

His dad and him definitely had a rocky relationship after his moms death, he didn’t parent very much and just left his stepmom in so many uncomfortable situations but honestly

He saw her more as a friend though then a mum but she was the best parental figure he’s ever even had. She’d genuinely try so hard to make sure his dad was acting like one like telling him he’s going to his sons gigs or else even though slater knew his dad would come for 2 seconds to appease his wife then leave.

But growing up he’s always been super careful of who’s around him and who he lets into his life probably as a result of how secretive his family has always instilled in him to be.

Like his dad keeps saying we’re family we come first, and he never wanted slater to be sharing that with people about what they did.

But he has such a resentment to his dad, like he thinks he’s a mess he has a wife he doesn’t give a fuck about a son he doesn’t see, he does god knows what he just is so convinced he can’t turn out like him ever.

I think people genuinely think he must not come from money because the amount of people who have ever met his parents or seen his house is a handful if that.

Like he’s always hanging out at other people’s places and just he’s never been really extravagant unless its to purposely spite his dad yikes. that comes from anger.

Like he really got himself a job even though his dad said he could come work for him just cause he was like yeah I don’t want to run ur dumb company and make money off it u pos?

His dad has definitely been investigated a few times for shady practices. slater definitely started looking into law for that reason, like he genuinely thought he wants to actually be able to put guys who screw the system and own huge corporations and think they can pay outta anything in jail.

meanwhile his dad thought great a lawyer who can defend our family business smh so he supports him He has no clue slater would rather take him down.

hes on the dl investigating his dad himself. who wanna help.

PERSONALITY

losing his mom AND one his best friends showed him that he needs to really do everything he wants to and in that moment which does make him selfish at times

i think he has abandonment issues, i think like when his best friend who was kinda the reason he came to lex, happened to pass away also triggered that again ( TBD WHY im leaving this open for plots ) and that really shook him all over.

he really almost feels cursed at this stage.

he was pretty sheltered tbh because his dad wasn’t trusting AT ALL and at first was homeschooled until High school so he didn’t exactly grow up outgoing or being able to have many people at his place or tell them about his life.

i think theres not many people who know he’s related to his dad business, even tho his dad business iS HUGE and legit is his last name. and hes like yeah ha coincidence right??? not my dad at all.

He’s super fucking blunt though like he may be secretive with his personal life but his ass does not hold back which has gotten him into way too many problems.

He just feels like he grew up lying about so much, his dad was like we don't want people taking advantage of you if they find out who you are and use things against me.

he hated that and all the secrets about his dad he kept so don’t expect him to hold back on feelings or thoughts back at all

LOVES to spite and piss his dad off even if that means 30+ students at his dads place during a business meeting lets do it.

He acts a lot without thinking like he sucks at planning anything and a lot of time he seems a little flighty and that he doesn’t take things serious enough esp his relationships

.He’d really go above and beyond though for anyone who’s proven to him that they can be trusted like he’s been known to be all in he either gives it everything or nothing so he goes extravagant

will try everything once.

wild child tm.

his ass was kinda like living it up. he’s like on the brink of i dont want to just use my dads money but he’s like if i am though i wanna use it to actually do something decent, like get a law degree and be something, travel like his mum did. hes obsessed with the thought of like following in her footsteps BUT HE. NEVER ADMITS IT.

feelings who are u?

He’s definitely a realist and a little bit cynical too, like he’s seen way too much shit to really have some ideal look on life.

He doesn’t believe in some fairytale or things just happen for a reason or really in fate or anything like that.

Like he doesn’t think love fixes everything and someone can be your happiness at all . hes like clearly its only problems so.

He’s only ever really had one serious relationship and a bunch of other casual things but that was just nothing to him

He’s not closed off to them but he picks and chooses what he gives, but he’s just doubtful how someone’s gonna mix well into his life

He definitely seems aloof and a bit cold but I mean after a drink and 5 minutes he’ll be picking your brain on just about anything

loves writing in general, usually lyrics and music though.

secretly Loves a good midnight dnm overlooking the water with a trusted friend

Awesome at getting himself out of situations he can be pretty convincing lbr

lowkey has abandonment issues.

connections: donnt say im trash i know.

extra drama - his STEP sibling. aka child of his step mom.

his best friends sibling, aka the one who passed away :”(

someone whose mum dated his dad WILD.

A TABOO FLING OR CRUSH, basically he got with someone he shouldn’t of, we can decide reasons HOWEVER I’D LOVE if the other chara was the ex of his friend who passed away. HED FEEL LIKE SHIT for having feelings. the angst. and the we cant do this its wrong.

I mean... someone who actually WORKS FOR HIS DAD. i would die, could be an escort, a sex worker, someone who is signed to his dads production company, can be a pornstar or more like a cam star too.

someone who is a huge tease and rlly makes his ass beg to be with them. make him work for it honey.

ooo a really GOOOOD friend and they’ve always been “ platonic” but theres this weird sexual tension and they both know it, but like ooo it could risk the frienndship n makee it weird and like ugh.

like someone whose parents hates them hanging around w/ slater bc of his family, maybe bc they ran in the same circles from back home but they just.. cant stay away from each other.

someone hes kinda dated but they realised we’d be better off as friends even tho weve seenn each other naked, it was fun.

One of the people from back home that found out all about his entire family when the scandal was exposed. They could’ve been friends or enemies.

AN ex!! pls he defs has broken some hearts or THE ONE WHO BROKE HIS :) IF U DO THIS U WILL GET SO MUCH LOVE

An enemy Maybe someone against his family or someone he just can’t stand!

THE damn girl his fucking dad tried to employ to be in his damn movie! My ass would do wild shit for this one wild WILD SHIT.

unrequited love, someone's heart he broke without even realising it

A confidant someone he can really confide in tell-all his dumbass shit too, like his protective ass would really care for this person

Someone who’s into music as much as him pLS!! like someone who can just jam with him late nights

He needs that dnm kinda friend 😂

A fwb that’s self explanatory:)

RIDE OR DIES etc

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS.

ANYTHING IM SOOO OPEN FOR PLOTTING

#lex.intro

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topsolarpanels · 7 years

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Know Your Enemy: Celebrating 50 Years of the Forever War

Robert Sammelin

No one drank more than the scientist. Every night, after whatever patriotic black-tie gala marriage played props at, he could be found at the hotel bar, trying to extract existential meaning from a banana colada. It was an odd drinking of option for such a serious human, but only once did he respond to our interrogations about it.

It pleases the nerve fibers, he said, all baritone to his voice, before disappearing into the chilled yellow muck again. We were in New Tulsa, debriefing after a grueling dinner with a bunch of white-haired solar energy exec. Wed been on the road for months, and morale used to go the way of the glacier. I ordered a round for the table, and we toasted to the hustle. Heroes of the nation, peddling war bonds by day, drinking like froufrous by night. Our drill instructor would not have been proud.

Maybe it wasnt New Tulsa. Maybe itd been in Charlotte after the fund-raiser with the nanofinance douchebags. Anyhow.

There were 11 of us on the bond drive, 12 if you included the JngerBot. The Forever War had just entered its sixth decade, and our politicians didnt pretend they were going to end it anymore, even during elections. They couldnt. Wed tried everything: nation-building, nation-destroying, sending terrorists and their families to the Mars penal colony, sending the rebel Young Siberians to actual Siberia. Nothing had worked. We were at war because we always had been. We were at war because we always would be. We were at war because we were at war.

Matt Gallagher

About

Matt Gallagher is the author of the novel Youngblood and the Iraq memoir Kaboom: Embracing the Suck in a Savage Little War.

The government decided to celebrate the Forever Wars golden anniversary with loud, shiny bombast. We were part of that bombast. AMERICAS HEROES, TOGETHER AT LAST, ran the tagline. We were like a roving assortment act, but without name recognition or singing or sex appeal. Without anything, truly. Just pasts wiped clean with the antiseptic of narrative. So we stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our tales to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

After the coladas, I settled the tab and excused myself. The younger veterinarians night was just beginning, but mine was nearing its end. In the queue for the teleporter to the rooms, a human about my age waited behind me. He wore a rumpled dress shirt and an overlong tie-in and a goatee on the brink of coherence.

He was looking everywhere but my hoverchair. People with legs always do that. It reminds me of the route some men used to try very hard not to look at my cleavage when I was younger. The endeavor simply underlines the fixation.

Thank you, he said. For what you did.

Thank you for your supporting, I told, a answer as hollow as it was practiced. He mustve been at the event earlier.

Cancan I tell you something?

Sure, I told. Women in military uniforms have this impact on men in dress shirts, for some reason. If youd like to.

I wanted to be a recon marine when I was a kid. He said it like it was a church confession, something hidden away in the lost rifts of his soul for decades. Did the recon workout at the gym for years, he continued. Stupid, I know.

I nodded, both because it was stupid and because I knew.

Youre a bona fide hero. The men segue was as graceful as a startled dog, but it was late. That scientist, though. Hes killing people. And not only the enemy.

I thought about “the mens” words. They were true enough. So what would you do? I asked. If you were him.

Me? The man stroked his goatee. I wouldnt even know.

Pragmatically, I told. Youre the scientist. You live in this country. The wars happening. You can perhaps aim it or not. Either style, people succumb. What do you do?

II object to the question. And to the idea. Im not him. The human voice had a quiver to it now. Not an angry quiver, either. A frightened one. I was just sayingI dont think its right. Thats all.

OK, I said. Night. It was my turning at the teleporter. I get in and went to my room. I didnt begrudge the man his opting out. We all had in some manner. Even us.

Especially us.

The Federals had discovered me at my sisters, on the porch, scrolling through a holopad article about the rabid lemur thatd killed Justin Bieber Jr. Furious George Howls With Delight! read the headline. Its always spooky when sons succumb the same way their fathers did. The past comprehend us all, eventually. Even Biebers.

I was on my seventh year of an indefinite visit, still sleeping in a bare guest room. A potted flower or framed scene would have felt like marks of permanence, somehow. Id been living in increments since high school and wasnt about to stop simply because I couldnt figure out what to do with the rest of my life.

Theywell, welived at the top of a windy mound in a suburbium of a suburbium, wedged between a stand of wild honeysuckle and a pond shaped like a swollen snout. It was green and quiet. The kind of place where big flags hung from porches with humility. I taught painting at the community center and took my nieces to soccer practice and spend my Saturday nights at the one townie bar that served ros.

The life didnt induce me happy or anything, but it could have. Maybe should have.

There were three of them. They all wore jeans and plaid shirts of differing blandness. Id have expected suits and black sunglasses, but the decay effects of after-empire were reaching and vast.

Chief Warrant Officer Valerie Speer? one said. Well, asked. I didnt look my part, either. Female veterinarians tend to cut a certain mold. A liter-sized gremlin in a gardening hat wasnt it.

They told me about the bond drive. About how it would inspire patriotism again in the hearts and minds of the person or persons. About how it would get everyday citizens invested in the wars again.( Like they ever were. I knew the history .) About how the governmental forces needed the money, how 50 years of blowing up things in strange, faraway places had taken its toll on the budget, especially since the geothermal insurgency in Blue Russia began eating away at Uncle sam foreign trade.

About how the bond drive needed a woman on it, because they had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot, and showing that heroes were as diverse as the country mattered.

I laughed. A female. I danced my metal fingers through the air. In the right sun my prosthetics could look like flesh. We werent in it. Thats why you need me.

That made the two men in jeans and plaid look down at the ground, but the woman Fed just stared at me.

Youre Valerie Speer, she said. The tone in her voice sounded so earnest it snapped. Do you know what you mean to my generation of status of women? I joined the agency because of you.

She was lying about that, I was almost sure. But shed appealed to my pride. I danced my fingers through the air again and took in all the green, all the quiet. Seven years here. Seven years that had induced me soft. Did people my age go on escapades anymore?

I requested information about financial compensation.

Heres the thing about being labeled a war hero: You either love it or hate it. Theres little space for mixed impressions. Take the scientist. Invented a drone mosquito that gives people the runs, sold it to the military, and stopped the Arabican conflict practically overnight. You cant fire a rifle when youre crapping out your brains. But some of the mosquitoes werent as specific as billed. During strafes, they bit foes and civilians alike. Which wouldnt have mattered much had we been fighting in the developed world. We werent, though. Outbreaks of dysentery and super-cholera followed, and the last UN estimate I watched numbered deaths in the tens of thousands.

The bond drive needed a woman on it. They already had an old guy, a blexican, a mexipino, and a robot.

The scientist had ended a war all with his mind. Yet the only thing he wanted in the world was to return to his lab, to his anonymity, and forget any of it ever happened.

The JngerBot seemed to resent the attention for other reasons. It didnt know what to induce of people, and truth be told, people didnt know what to attain of it. They could handle robots, had been dealing with them all their lives. Even the rough-and-tumble behaviour of a regular InfantryBot could be explained away. But an elite InfantryBot 5000 upgraded with the transcendental heroism and philosophical musings of decorated German World War I soldier Ernst Jnger? That caused some issues.

The anarch wages his own wars, the JngerBot said at a fund-raiser to a journalist whod would like to know whether it missed battle. Even when marching in rank and file.

Before a boxing prizefight, the JngerBot felt it necessary to remind the crowd what was what. Furrow opposing is the bloodiest, wildest, most brutal of all, it said to 70,000 drunk revelers in Vegas. Of all the wars exciting moments , none is so powerful as the session of two cyclone troop leaders between narrow trench walls. Theres no compassion there , no going back. The blood speaks from a shrill exclaim of recognition that tears itself from ones breast like a nightmare.

And then there were the children.

It told a 10 -year old with a JngerBot poster on his wall that killing an adversary would be a finer tribute. And when a bank presidents “girls ” pointed to us and asked if we were heroes, the JngerBot objected as only it could TAGEND

Heroes deeds and heroes graves, it said. Old and new you here may assure. How the Empire was created. How the Empire was preserved. It paused. We sought the death of heroes. There is no lovelier demise in the world.

The little girls face paled to glass as her father resulted her away. We all laughed about it , no one harder or longer than Dizzy. Dizzy was a walking, talking debate for breeding the remaining cis-males out of the gene pool, if only he hadnt been so pretty. Drone pilots. They think theyre so starfish because they can laser insurrectionists dead from space. And Dizzy was an superstar. He adored every minute of the bond drive, “members attention”, the parties, the hoverfloat rides, the certain type of female patriot who wanted to see the view from his hotel balcony. Beats going back to Pueblo and coaching CrossFit, hed tell, before unleashing that smile of full, fluoride shine. God, he could charm the sorcery underwear off a Mormon.

Would try, at least.

Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Maybe it was three Iraq wars ago.

Dizzy and the younger vets on the bond drive are always privateersmercenaries if youre the protest, virtual-petition kind. WarriorCorps and Foreign Legion Inc. and Armed Humanitarianism Limited and the like. I was hybrid: part contractor but also part national military, before that ran extinct during the Whig Revolt of 36. Merely Emo Carlos was old enough to have been GI from beginning to end. Hed earned the Silver Star in the Iraq war. Well, the Iraq war before the last one. Perhaps it was three Iraq wars ago. Anyhow. We asked Emo Carlos about it over sushi, after a parade in Cleveland.

Jumped on a grenade at a checkpoint, he told, defining down his chopsticks with a shrug. Didnt go off.

We hollered and banged the table just because we could. Itd been a couple decades since anything but a bot had been close enough to a grenade to do anything like that. Even the JngerBot conveyed its admiration.

Defective? I asked.

Emo Carlos nodded. One in a million, they said.

What happened then? Dizzy asked.

The creases in Emo Carlos forehead folded into one another like papier-mch. He usually never talked about anything but drumming for his old-man punk band. Theyd served together back in the day and were known across the greater Rochester area as the Infidels. Geriatric humor.

Stood up, he said. Dusted off. Looked down. Realise Id pissed myself.

We hollered and banged the table all over again.

An elderly couple came over to us subsequently. Theyd overheard our conversation and wanted to say thank you. They said they had two grandsons in privateer training.

I know our thanks is a small thing, the spouse said. He and his wife looked so cute in their nice old-people clothes, khakis and sweaters and thick-rimmed glasses. They looked like other peoples grandparents always look. But sometimes its all those of us here can offer.

The wife nodded. Were all involved, she told. We believe that. As taxpayers, as citizens, thats how it is. Were with you.

We thanked them for thanking us and they left the restaurant.

What did she mean, Were all involved? Dizzy asked. No theyre not.

There were echoes of agreement and deliberation over what the old woman had meant, and not just about the word involved . Also about the word we .

Yo, Emo Carlos told. The table hushed. Theyre from my hour. When wars had objectives. When citizens tried to keep up. America used to be young. Thats what she meant.

Then say that, Dizzy told. Taxes? Who the fucking cares.

Emo Carlos shook his head again. He was trying to clear himself of frustrations, either with himself or with us. Then he pointed at me. Sent her to the damn moon. Supposed to save us all, putting the wars up there. Preserve the land and resources, remove civilian demises. Be tidy and simple. That was the plan.

And no one ever went back, Dizzy told. The game changed.

Well. Emo Carlos giggled. Military lesson numero uno, son, he said. No plan survives first contact.

The rest of us chuckled along with the old wisdom. Everyone but the scientist, who sat off by himself in the corner. He looked up at us with something between sadness and ferocity. It was hard to decide which.

Tidy and simple, he said. I like that.

When my nieces turn 12 and gain access to FreedomNet, they will find these three paragraphs about their aunt, etched into the digital histories forever and ever TAGEND Valerie Jade Speer( born May 2, 2011) was a chief warrant officer( air) and assault pilot in the United States Army and later the privateer organization Star Spangled Security. She was awarded the Star of Valor in 2042 for her actions during the Battle on the Moon, of which she was the only survivor . Deployed to the moon as part of the NATO coalition during the course of its South Seas dispute, Speer flew a Flying Yeager fusion helocraft during the battle, destroying five Chinese Federation space-helos and two Young Siberian cosmo-planes. Struck by an enemy dwarf ballistic, Speer crash-landed into the Titius Crater. She was thus sheltered from the amaze thermonuclear strike carried out by the Young Siberians that killed all other fighters and blew the hole in the moon now known as Putins Smile . Initially presumed dead, Speer was found during NATO recovery operations two days after the end of the combat. She lost three extremities, suffered burns over much of her body, and survived over 90 surgeries. President Natasha Obama told Speers life and narrative are a testament to the American spirit at her Star of Valor ceremony at the White House .

Words can be funny beasts. Her actions suggest some sort of agency, even control. Destroy is such a clean term for such messiness. Struck by defied my memory of it. Same with crash-landed.

Less so with lost. And suffered.

Testament. As if enduring were a selection. I did what anyone would have. There are no atheists in moon craters. And there are no fatalists in survivor wards of one.

I was thinking about that ward as I zipped up my suitcase in my sisters guest room for the bond drive. Thinking about the long stills of quiet during the nights. Guessing about being “ve called the” Burn by nurses who guessed I couldnt hear them. Supposing about the full-thickness graft done without anesthesia.

You sure about this, Val? My sister stood in the doorway. Her posture betrayed opposition. She was four years older and had always asked me questions that she already had answers for. You have options.

Shed said the same years prior, before Id left for the moon.

I am, I told both times, even though I wasnt both days. Id always detected power and resolve in ambiguity, though. Most people werent like that. My sister, for one.

Youve done more than your share, she continued, moving to the bed and putting her arm around my shoulder. So much more. I leaned my head into her and tried to hold in some of the familial warmth. Id miss it, I knew. Only sisters and nieces hug people like me. I dont think its right.

I smiled at that.

Its not, I told. But. If not me, then who?

Even running can be its own form of opting out. I didnt know that the first time. But I did the second. The last night in the guest room, as I tossed and turned in bed, I thought about that. Then I thought about the survivor ward again. And the long stills of quiet during the nights. And being “ve called the” Burn. And the graft.

Somewhere between Omaha and Tesla City, I began to realize just how different the younger vets were. It wasnt simply that they were privateers, either, or that they called adversary combatants pixels as an insult. Dizzy and his crew, they crowed about their service. Owned their superiority, then basked in it.

Do soldiers think theyre better than citizens? Of course. It has nothing to do with what did or didnt happen in their service, either. It has to do with the very notion of joining up. Americas been at war since before most of us were born. We joined because we wanted to go. Wed been told we were special from day one of boot camp, doing something the rest of our nation couldnt. Or worse, wouldnt. Too fat. Too selfish. Too lazy. Which made the realization after we got out that citizens think were beneath them all the more shocking. If theyre fat, selfish, and lazy, then whats worse than that?

We werent supposed to say any of that, though. My generation didnt, at least. We were taught that part of our service was biding quiet about it. To rise above, because thats what Jesus and George Washington and Beyonc wouldve wanted.

Thats what I did. Or tried to, at the least. Let the citizenry think what it wants, ran the logic. All part of being a republic.

Maybe we had it incorrect, though.

I wondered about that the night the protester confronted us. We were in Washington for a gala. Ordinarily “were in” ushered in through side or back door for events, but the organizers of this one had us walking in on a red carpet, through a galaxy of flashing lightings and holographic cameras.

Finally, Dizzy told, pausing to adjust his bow affiliation and lick his front teeth. The treatment we deserve.

Why the protester chose the JngerBot to cream-pie, Ill never know. By the time the uproar had reached my ears and Id floated around in my chair, the JngerBot had the young man by the throat. Request order to remove home-front adversary, it said, which was funny, and then not.

We got the young man free of the JngerBots prongs. He was reed-thin and had thick brown curls with eyes as dark and mad as the moon. I didnt know what to think about him or his pie. People didnt protest war in person anymore. It wasnt sane behavior.

Youre not heroes, he told. His terms were shaky. Its never easy coming face to face with people youve demonized. Or cockpit to cockpit. Youre tools of empire. Fuck you. Fuck all of you.

The cameras along the walkway started popping off like mortars. We all only stood there, waiting out his denunciation, because we were there to be seen and applauded , nothing else. His anger dazed me, and the others too. Not Dizzy, though.

Get bent, joker, Dizzy told, intersecting his arms for the cameras. War is bad? No shit. But it wont go forth just cause we want it to. Last month, two brigades from the same base get deployed. One goes to Kurd Mountain, saves those households from the horde. The other goes to Blue Russia, blows up some insurrectionists. Ones a humanitarian mission. The others combat. Both involve destruction.

Id never heard Dizzy speak with eloquence and passion before. He was good, and he knew it. He pressed on.

This JngerBot is a goddamn national gem. I dont know what brought you here tonight, and I dont dedicate a single fucking. We went so you dont “re going to have to”. Suck my hero balls.

The arrogance. The entitlement. The narrowness of thought. I loved it all, and I wasnt the only one. The red carpet explosion with applause. Dizzy even took a bow. But the acclaim wasnt universal.

After the protester had been escorted away and wed run inside for the gala, the scientist saw Dizzy. Dont do that again, he said. He loomed over the younger human like an angry parent. That guy is not your adversary. Neither is anyone else youve met on this stupid tour.

He aint a friend. Dizzy was trying to sound unbothered, and he leaned back in his chair and set his feet on the table. So what is he?

Only morons speak in absolutes, the scientist said.

Dizzy changed tactics. You know what he likely thinks about you? he asked. What all these people say when they think we cant hear? I had a woman tell me she didnt think we were whole human beings. Fuck her, and fuck that protester. Fuck all of them.

I wondered what the answers were to Dizzys questionwhat did people say about us? When they thought about us at all. Beyond the pomp and rite of the bond drive, we werent anything, I supposed. Just ciphers with tales people believed in, or didnt believe in, even before they heard them.

So. What. The scientists voice turned to iron as he responded to Dizzy. Thats the job. We have consequences.

Dizzy opened his mouth, but the scientist cut him off. You did . You did when you didnt “re going to have to”. Thats enough. It has to be. Then he stormed off, presumably for the hotel bar.

The scientist opted out that night. The rest of us did too, by doing the job. We stood there and smiled and waved while other people told our stories to the crowds. The crowd cheered. We waved again.

We walked back to the hotel as a group after the jamboree. We stopped in a park with green lawns and a marble fountain and joked about the protester, giggled about the scientist. The scientist had been right, but so what? What did being right have to do with anything? Dizzy had regained whatever force-out it was that sustained him and began chatting up a pair of young women who considered themselves patriots. I watched it all and thought about the ward and then my sisters home. The JngerBot came up beside me.

You managed that pie well, I told it. It didnt say anything, so I continued. Waiting for an order, I mean.

Here is our kingdom, the best use of monarchies, the best republic, the JngerBot told. Here is our garden, our happiness.

What a random thing to tell, I thought. Even for a robot. But subsequently, after considering it more, I decided otherwise.

The Fiction Issue

Tales From an Uncertain Future

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prohealths · 7 years

Text

Boys In Chairs: That Time I Couldn’t Masturbate By Myself Anymore

In the summer of 2014, I wrote a blog post entitled, “Boys and Girls in Chairs: The ‘Right’ to Get Off”. In the post, I spoke pretty candidly about my experiences with masturbation and the trials and realities of performing this act when one is as disabled as I am. It was light and funny with a few quips here and there about “choking the chicken thrown in for brevity”. Towards the end of that post I asked, “What happens if one can’t do it themselves?” At the time, I was talking about a hypothetical person. I never considered — really considered — the realities of what it might feel like to not be able to achieve self-pleasure. I was very happy that I was, in my limited fashion, able to please myself; using only one finger and my thumb I could bring my Queer Crippled self to states of ecstasy independently, and that was indeed a liberation like none I had ever experienced before.

Over the past while, I have noticed that my disability has changed over time. With my spastic Cerebral Palsy being what it is, my dexterity has decreased while my spasticity and muscular tension has increased (I feel like there might be a sex pun in there somewhere). By all accounts this is a pretty common occurrence for people who experience my level of disability; what the doctors refer to as “severely disabled”, but what I will refer to as “severely sexy”. On the one hand, I’m not surprised or stunned by this development, but I have to admit that I am angry and scared of what this means for my sexual health and mental well being overall. I worry about what this means for me as a disabled person, sexual being and as a queer cripple working in sex and disability.

I remember when it first happened a while back. I wasn’t able to sleep late at night. I was lying in my bed listening to the sounds of night envelop me; the ticking of my clock, cars revving their engines and people coming home from nights out. I could see the bright red lights that bathed the city as I stared at my iPhone as it blinked 3 A.M. The best way to cure this bout of insomnia was to get off, I thought. I typed in my favorite porn site into my phone, and as the scene was starting I snaked my hand under the covers. I tried to get my thumb in its familiar position so that I could start enjoying myself. I immediately noticed a marked difference; my hand wasn’t doing what I wanted it to. The muscle contractures were too strong, and I couldn’t relax enough to find any rhythm or momentum. I was doubly annoyed because I could hear the muted, mumbled voices of the porn stars enjoying each other in their scene on my phone. I bet that they had no clue how much I wanted to rub one out to them. I was simultaneously angered that I hadn’t heeded the advice of my physiotherapist when I was younger. I wish I had done those seemingly unimportant finger strengthening exercises then – that mobility would come in handy now (pun definitely intended). Goddamnit! I was determined to keep trying. I contorted my body and hands as best I could, but to no avail. For a split second, I began laughing uncontrollably thinking, “Maybe God does punish you for masturbating. Or maybe it’s just the disabled kids?” I then let out a reserved sigh of anger and frustration, which was wrapped in a huge overwhelming ball of fear and uncertainty that I can’t even really describe in words. I rolled over in my bed and forced myself to turn off the porn and try to sleep. The fear churned in my stomach and I started to cry, angry that this was happening, and thinking, “What do I do now? Why me?”

I had so many questions that were whirling around in my head. I wondered what my sex life would look like now? I was worried that people would see me as even less of a sexual being than they already did. Would guys still want to do me? Am I still sexually attractive? There was even a small part of me that was concerned with my performance of masculinity as a queer man with disabilities. Intellectually, I understand and agree that queer men’s obsession with “masc4masc” is rooted in oppression, internalized homophobia and frankly utter bullshit, but I can’t pretend that this recent change in my functionality didnt make me wary of my status as a disabled man. There’s something very primal, independent and downright masculine about a guy being able to whip his dick out and please himself if he so chooses. This is his moment to be with himself, it’s all his, and now that sense of bodily autonomy was stripped away from me without warning. That hurts, there’s no other way to say it. I also considered my professional persona with my brand DisabilityAfterDark. I didn’t know if I was even really allowed to call myself a sex educator anymore. How could I talk about sex if I couldn’t even have it with myself?

All those feelings kept nagging at me and bothering me, and they haven’t really subsided even now. Everytime I see someone stroking themselves (which, when you are as horny as I am, and work in sex positivity, is a fair bit), I get resentful of their ability and the privilege they are employing that I no longer have access to. I want to scream at them, “imagine what would happen if you couldn’t do that anymore! How would you feel?” I wish they could understand how I feel about this loss.

I have always been someone who adapted to things thrown at me. I often didn’t have a choice. But, honestly, how the fuck does one adapt to this? Who do you turn to? I’ve thought about asking my friends for help here, but this feels like a definite crossing of boundaries that even for me, someone who prides themselves on being a saucy, seated individual and a provocateur with disabilities, this feels somewhat unnerving. How would that conversation even start? “Hey man, if you’re not too busy today, do you think you might help me get off?” You’re not meant to ask your friends these types of questions, and even considering that as an option feels altogether icky and off-putting.

There have been a rare few moments in which I have been genuinely angered by my disability. I have always considered it an integral part of me. I still do, of course, but in many ways this feels like bodily betrayal. I don’t have much else to say, except that I am worried that I will have blue balls or have random emissions without wanting to. I miss all that which I held (and rubbed) so dearly and hope that I can calibrate my own joystick again soon.

— This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Boys In Chairs: That Time I Couldn’t Masturbate By Myself Anymore syndicated from http://ift.tt/2llz9hF

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yes-dal456 · 7 years

Text

Boys In Chairs: That Time I Couldn't Masturbate By Myself Anymore

In the summer of 2014, I wrote a blog post entitled, "Boys and Girls in Chairs: The 'Right' to Get Off". In the post, I spoke pretty candidly about my experiences with masturbation and the trials and realities of performing this act when one is as disabled as I am. It was light and funny with a few quips here and there about "choking the chicken thrown in for brevity". Towards the end of that post I asked, "What happens if one can't do it themselves?" At the time, I was talking about a hypothetical person. I never considered -- really considered -- the realities of what it might feel like to not be able to achieve self-pleasure. I was very happy that I was, in my limited fashion, able to please myself; using only one finger and my thumb I could bring my Queer Crippled self to states of ecstasy independently, and that was indeed a liberation like none I had ever experienced before. Over the past while, I have noticed that my disability has changed over time. With my spastic Cerebral Palsy being what it is, my dexterity has decreased while my spasticity and muscular tension has increased (I feel like there might be a sex pun in there somewhere). By all accounts this is a pretty common occurrence for people who experience my level of disability; what the doctors refer to as "severely disabled", but what I will refer to as "severely sexy". On the one hand, I'm not surprised or stunned by this development, but I have to admit that I am angry and scared of what this means for my sexual health and mental well being overall. I worry about what this means for me as a disabled person, sexual being and as a queer cripple working in sex and disability. I remember when it first happened a while back. I wasn't able to sleep late at night. I was lying in my bed listening to the sounds of night envelop me; the ticking of my clock, cars revving their engines and people coming home from nights out. I could see the bright red lights that bathed the city as I stared at my iPhone as it blinked 3 A.M. The best way to cure this bout of insomnia was to get off, I thought. I typed in my favorite porn site into my phone, and as the scene was starting I snaked my hand under the covers. I tried to get my thumb in its familiar position so that I could start enjoying myself. I immediately noticed a marked difference; my hand wasn't doing what I wanted it to. The muscle contractures were too strong, and I couldn't relax enough to find any rhythm or momentum. I was doubly annoyed because I could hear the muted, mumbled voices of the porn stars enjoying each other in their scene on my phone. I bet that they had no clue how much I wanted to rub one out to them. I was simultaneously angered that I hadn't heeded the advice of my physiotherapist when I was younger. I wish I had done those seemingly unimportant finger strengthening exercises then - that mobility would come in handy now (pun definitely intended). Goddamnit! I was determined to keep trying. I contorted my body and hands as best I could, but to no avail. For a split second, I began laughing uncontrollably thinking, "Maybe God does punish you for masturbating. Or maybe it's just the disabled kids?" I then let out a reserved sigh of anger and frustration, which was wrapped in a huge overwhelming ball of fear and uncertainty that I can't even really describe in words. I rolled over in my bed and forced myself to turn off the porn and try to sleep. The fear churned in my stomach and I started to cry, angry that this was happening, and thinking, "What do I do now? Why me?" I had so many questions that were whirling around in my head. I wondered what my sex life would look like now? I was worried that people would see me as even less of a sexual being than they already did. Would guys still want to do me? Am I still sexually attractive? There was even a small part of me that was concerned with my performance of masculinity as a queer man with disabilities. Intellectually, I understand and agree that queer men's obsession with "masc4masc" is rooted in oppression, internalized homophobia and frankly utter bullshit, but I can't pretend that this recent change in my functionality didnt make me wary of my status as a disabled man. There's something very primal, independent and downright masculine about a guy being able to whip his dick out and please himself if he so chooses. This is his moment to be with himself, it's all his, and now that sense of bodily autonomy was stripped away from me without warning. That hurts, there's no other way to say it. I also considered my professional persona with my brand DisabilityAfterDark. I didn't know if I was even really allowed to call myself a sex educator anymore. How could I talk about sex if I couldn't even have it with myself? All those feelings kept nagging at me and bothering me, and they haven't really subsided even now. Everytime I see someone stroking themselves (which, when you are as horny as I am, and work in sex positivity, is a fair bit), I get resentful of their ability and the privilege they are employing that I no longer have access to. I want to scream at them, "imagine what would happen if you couldn't do that anymore! How would you feel?" I wish they could understand how I feel about this loss. I have always been someone who adapted to things thrown at me. I often didn't have a choice. But, honestly, how the fuck does one adapt to this? Who do you turn to? I've thought about asking my friends for help here, but this feels like a definite crossing of boundaries that even for me, someone who prides themselves on being a saucy, seated individual and a provocateur with disabilities, this feels somewhat unnerving. How would that conversation even start? "Hey man, if you're not too busy today, do you think you might help me get off?" You're not meant to ask your friends these types of questions, and even considering that as an option feels altogether icky and off-putting. There have been a rare few moments in which I have been genuinely angered by my disability. I have always considered it an integral part of me. I still do, of course, but in many ways this feels like bodily betrayal. I don't have much else to say, except that I am worried that I will have blue balls or have random emissions without wanting to. I miss all that which I held (and rubbed) so dearly and hope that I can calibrate my own joystick again soon.

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

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liberallifeblog · 7 years

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Boys In Chairs: That Time I Couldn't Masturbate By Myself Anymore

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

Boys In Chairs: That Time I Couldn't Masturbate By Myself Anymore posted first on http://ift.tt/2kDxLY4

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imreviewblog · 7 years

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Boys In Chairs: That Time I Couldn't Masturbate By Myself Anymore

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from Healthy Living - The Huffington Post http://huff.to/2k0dA9o

#Healthy Living - The Huffington Post

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kaaarrriiinnaa-blog · 7 years

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The girls he loved after me,

I think you're really pretty I use to hate thinking you were really pretty. I use to wish you were plain; I use to wish you were boring. I use to wish you were had dead bodies in your closet or that your Instagram photos weren't so fucking cute. Because maybe he wouldn't have chosen you. But a few months ago, I had a life altering realization. And that's why I'm writing this letter. I've been wanting to have this conversation with you for a while because I feel that I owe you an explanation as to why I was in love with him for so long. I know he is yours. But once he was mine. And we were once happy. For eight months, I was the one who lifted him up and made him feel like a little kid. I was the one racing him down sidewalks and watching him scream I love you at the top of his lungs. I was the one wearing his high school t-shirts and sleeping next to him every other night. I was making him happy. I was his. Because you weren't there. He had never said your name before. He had no idea you even existed. And I'd be lying if i said that I didn't enjoy the days when you were nonexistent. The months before I heard your name for the first time were the most beautifully tragic months I've ever lived through. I remember the way he looked at me after he heard me sing for the first time. He counted how many times we made eye contact that night and it turned out to be about 30 times... we were kind of ridiculous like that. I remember when I held his hand for the first time. We were watching a movie in my room when he held his hand out and asked me to lie down next to him I threw a pillow at his face because I was so embarrassed and shy... but after his third attempt, I took his hand anyway. I remember when he accidentally told me he loved me almost every single day after we'd been dating for two weeks. I'd say something funny and he'd say "ah... and that's why I love you." Then he'd run away saying "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT PRETEND I DIDNT SAY ANYTHING!" I remember the moment I thought I realized he was not the guy I was going to end up with. I remember being wrong. I remember watching our love tailspin to rock bottom when I became insecure with the relationship and demanded unrealistic things from him. I remember leaving him. I remember regretting it. I remember feeling so far away from god because I believed he had taken the only true love I'd every experienced away from me, like he was tearing my skin from my bones. I remember hardly leaving my bed for three months. I remember hearing your name for the first time. I remember crying. A lot. I remember the bad months just as much as the good months. And I honestly can't tell you which ones hurt more. I sometimes wish I would forget all the sweet facts but I memorized them as I'm sure you have. We both know he's an introvert who tries exceptionally hard to be an extrovert. We both know he suffers from occasional crippling anxiety. We both know how much he loves milk. We both know he loves pulling pranks but is also terrified of getting in trouble because he's a good boy at heart. We both knows he h8s h8ers. We both know his darling mother means more to him than either the of us ever could. We both know him fairly well. You more than I. But then again, you held his hand much longer than I ever did. I never so strongly believed in love like I believed in him. He was the one. Was. Not too long ago I moved on, and now I believe in a new love. A steadier love. And I truly believe there is more than one person out there in the world that we are meant to be with. Because if there is only one, then wow, we are all screwed. So if I'm no longer in love with him... why did I decide to write this? Because I want you to know that I feel no resentment towards you. And I really hope you make him happy. Because that's all I ever wanted to give him. Happiness. His happiness meant more to me than my own. I was unable to give him the happiness he needed. And it almost killed me. But I hope in the end everything works out better for you. And I hope you get to be with the love of our lives because you really do deserve to be happy. I hope that if you ever decide to leave, he'll love you enough to stop you at the door and kiss you until you decide to stay. I hope you turn around and promise that you'll never leave his side. I hope you don't make the same mistakes I did. I hope you stay. Because one of us has to. And it's much too late for me. I hope your love lasts much longer than ours ever did, and I hope you don't see me as his ex-love who is resentful because I no longer carry his heart around. I'm merely the girl who was meant to love him right before you came along. And even though I didn't know that for a very long time (I may not have known until I finish writing this letter), I know it now. And it's a role I'm not ashamed to play. Because at least I got him for eight months. At least I had enough time to memorize him completely. At least I have his love safe in my heart so I can't revisit it whenever I miss him. I do miss him. A lot sometimes. But I'm always reassured with the beautiful fact that he has you. And you won't leave him. And that's why I wrote you this. BecAuse I think you're really pretty, and I think it may in fact be forever between you two. And if you were meant to be his life long love story, Then I'm just happy to be the prologue. Love, The girl he loved before you.

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