#sorry for the outburst i think i'll delete this later

[lesbian-i-ching]

I hate my mom so much sometimes... i'd really love to tell her to shove her lesbophobic bullshit up her ass, but sadly i can't and i'm so really tired. I don't know if i can stand it anymore

#tw homophobia #sorry for the outburst i think i'll delete this later

[formenis]

The mask shop

This is not a Death Note post, just a personal outburst. You're free not to read this. Maybe I'll delete it later.

Soon I'll publish a Near x gn!reader.

TW: personal and emotional problems.

I always imagine myself as the owner of a mask shop. The space is pretty large, comfy furniture and relaxing atmosphere.

From outside people could observe the windows of my shop. Clean glass, a shining door and a well built sign.

I bought my first mask at middle school. It was the only school in my small town so I couldn't complain.

«You have such a bad personality, [x]. Don't be like your hateful grandma»

«Alright»

Truth was I hated everything about it. Being the third child (and the second daughter) of a retired chemistry professor was hard for me at that time. It still is actually.

My older brother and sister are the best: good grades, an independent life, a family, friends, love interests.

Mom said that me and my younger brother are spoiled compared to my other brother and sister. I don't know what "spoiled" means in her mind, I don't feel spoiled at all.

I look around my shop and I noticed that one window is dirty. I rush towards it and started to clean carefully.

My memory turns back at the mask I bought for high school.

My older brother and sister studied in that institute (and my father taught there too) so it was mandatory for me. I wanted to learn foreign languages, I wanted to discover the world. That desire died long ago.

I had to study at that school. I couldn't choose.

I hated it as well. I wasn't brilliant like my sister since I hadn't any interest in that school.

«Sorry if I'm not like your other brilliant daughter»

«Yeah, pity»

It's a real dialogue between me and my mother but now she didn't remember it. But I do.

It doesn't matter anyway.

Luckily the window is clean again and I can come back behind the counter, waiting for a customer. As my eyes examine the room, my gaze stops at a particular mask.

I remember it clearly. At 16 years old I discovered I had a genetic hormonal disease and in one year I gained 45 lbs (20kg). My body changed: I said goodbye to my flat chest to welcome a more curvy figure.

«You cannot do anything [x]. Your body is like this now and forever»

Well, ok. I never cared about physical appearance because I had other interests. By after that discovery I started to look more at the mirror: long dark blonde hair to hide the "sideburns", rolls all over my stomach, stretch marks and scars everywhere.

I'm like this even after 10 years. Minus the body hair on my face. All my clothes are black and pretty large because «You have to hide those rolls, [x]», as my mother said when I was little. Unfortunately, I still have this mentality and I cover myself as much as I can.

My recent mask is from Internet. During lockdown I couldn't leave my shop so all my things are bought online.

My older brother and sister have their perfect life and I'm here at 25 with constant anxiety and panic attacks.

I overthink, become anxious for nothing and I cry alone in my room.

Sometimes I think: do my parents think I'm a disappointment? After all I don't have a proper job, no independence, no love interest (come on, who dare to love me). At 25 I'm nothing. My parents at 25 had already two children.

But why I imagine myself as the owner of a mask shop? Because masks help me to face the world. If you meet me you'll see a cheerful, easy-going girl (with a bad sense of humor I admit). To others I'm always happy and carefree, always ready to help.

Most of it it's true, especially the bad sense of humor. But truth is that I could be different sometimes. I want to cry in front of the others, I want to ask help but in the end, even in my lowest moments, I'm the one helping.

«Oh look at the time!» I state after looking at the clock. «End of the day»

No customers today.

At very least, it's just me in my mask shop with myself and I. Waiting for the next phase of my life that will require a new, different mask.

~

If you read it until this point, thank you. Or sorry if it was a waste of your time. I think that the only thing unable to judge people is writing. It helps you (and me in this case) to express deep, dusted feeling that are well hidden most of the time. Maybe a day I'll be better but for now I'll entrust my online paper to shield those feelings.

#personal struggles #emotional post