#tumblr just gave me an outlet for stuff like this. and every social media is essentially a highlight reel of ppl's best moments.

[stuckinapril]

i think i officially set my sights on a therapist and i'll be contacting her very soon?? therapy was legitimately not on my 2024 bingo card (or in the cards for me at all) but here we are????

#this blog always had a focus on social science and detangling feelings and experiences. like it's basically been serving as my diary #bc this blog has always been my main outlet for it. i hate talking feelings to anyone irl. it's a bad habit but i hate it #so it was a game changer and helped me grow up sooo much. esp supplemented w other people's experiences. #being raised by a stoic engineer mother who's very much warm but also not very good at feelings at times has caused me to suppress SO much #compounded w being the eldest daughter. like that is a damning sentence in and of itself #tumblr just gave me an outlet for stuff like this. and every social media is essentially a highlight reel of ppl's best moments. #tumblr is the opposite. i've always loved that too whether it was in the form of humor or more earnest posts #could i work through my own issues by myself? yes probably #and my blog will always have that facet even if i get a therapist #but a therapist's input. just a professional's input. will expedite a lot of improvement for me i think #this has been a critical time period for me anyway bc i'm budgeting my whole schedule for once vs being handheld by uni deadlines #and it's just gonna keep getting more and more intense from here bc i'm truly pushing my comfort zone more than ever before #it just feels like the right call even tho i'm lowkey nervous ab it bc i HATE talking feelings in person. #this therapist will not fall for my trying to deflect by asking her about her life. which. usually works on my friends <3 #we will see. a therapy arc is coming very soon basically #p

[myyworldinadaze]

12.3.23 - 2:48p: gave up IG just to hop back on tumblr. my life is not too hot at the moment. not the worst but definitely just not the business. mainly dealing with my shortcomings as a parent. my priorities were not in the right place and now my son is acting out pretty bad. I have my household to maintain, new job but still not enough support around me to have freedom to repair the damage done. I used IG as an escape, a major distraction from what was truly important. I wasn't using it properly. IG is not terrible, it's just how you pair it with your life. I'm so internally damaged that I seek attention from family and friends by carefully curating posts to my IG stories for views and conversations. Ignoring my son in the process, brushing him off but using him at the same time for "IG clout". I got triggered pretty bad by something on IG that really made me wild paranoid. I was distraught but by my own doing. It happened while I was at work and I did not like that experience at all. I didn't want to feel that way anymore. I didn't want my sanity being toyed with like that anymore. I had to give it up for the time being. It should not be having me all fucked up in the head. I should not allow something as silly as social media to have such power over my life. I had to let it go. I had to regain some sort of control. I gathered phone numbers I didn't have and got rid of it. I have done it once before and came back after like 3 years. I'm not sure how long I'll be off of it. Indefinitely or temporarily. I'm gauging it based on if I'm able to find a solid balance with my life and then maybe slowly integrating myself back into it. I just don't trust myself because I'm very vulnerable right now. I'm crying everyday. Not all day but literally every single day. It's mentally exhausting. I feel like this isn't another attention-seeking thing for me. I'm not tagging or trying to boost recognition for this space. I just need an outlet. I thought physically journaling would work but writing my thoughts feels different from typing. I like with tumblr that I can find pictures, quotes and music to mix in with my thoughts. I don't want to be found but if anyone happens to resonate, then welcome to my space. I surprisingly did have followers when I had my old tumblr blog and I honestly don't know why or how lol. I think I did tag my posts but mainly for my own archive to find my own stuff easily. My son is napping so I have the time to get in at least one post before he wakes up. I'm working on being more present with him, practicing more patience with him. He has a lot of learning and unlearning to do. He needs me and I need him. Single parenting is no joke. Taking it one day at a time...

[thoughtsofadyingsoftwaredev]

Hello, Tumblr world! For some reason I am drawn to you in the Fall season. My last post was just over a year ago… sorry about that. Not that you, my lovely reader, care - and that is IF anyone reads this! I won't lie I don't care if people read these or not, this is essentially an online journal for me at this point, ha.

So, what's new with me lately, you might ask? Well, I'll break it down:

Still happy with our house. We've made gradual updates to it since moving in, including redoing some old flooring with some new vinyl faux-wood looking stuff. Super nice. Also replaced an old toilet in the process. Next we're eyeballing a bathtub upgrade for one of the bathrooms and big landscaping changes to our back yard.

Got promoted at work to Senior Software Engineer after 3 years. Not bad turnaround time for that title change, in my opinion. My responsibilities shifted from managing the IAM software to managing our search experience for the many different applications we provide.

This primarily means I'm responsible for drafting search document schemas, working with these other teams to get answers on questions they refuse to provide answers to without me having to ask first, and handling the logic for ingesting hundreds of thousands of items of varying types to different search engines. In my 3.5 years of working here, I have enjoyed the challenges of the job. Of course, it's not without it's awful days or days where my head is screeching, but the good days outweigh the bad for me.

Wife and I are still on speaking terms. That's my way of saying we're both as good and happy with each other as ever lol she's my best friend. We both got super interested in NFL this season and watch every Monday and Thursday game and watch Minnesota (wife's favorite team) on Sundays. RIP Vikings post-Cousins injury.

That's about all I can think of life-wise. My 31st birthday was a few weeks ago, and I feel old as shit sometimes LOL I look in the mirror and I see what seems like new wrinkles in new places, my hair is graying in small parts, and I find it hard to stay up late. It's 1:04AM right now and I find this to be the upper range of my limits lol

I had a dream recently that my wife and I died in a freak accident at some theme park (not a specific one, just some weird abstract dreamy one) - from what I can remember we were on what we thought was part of a ride, but what ended up happening is we both fell to our deaths.

After we died, we both were floating over family and friends as spirits, watching our bodies get carried in open caskets. For some reason, I had two huge pieces of hair that went down both sides of my face (this is nowhere near what my hair looks like so no idea why this was).

At first, when I woke up, I kinda had to laugh at it. The overall sequence of events was a bit silly. But I found myself thinking more and more about it throughout today. Who will care if I die? Not in a "bad thoughts" kinda way, but genuinely - what kind of footprint am I leaving in this world? Will people know or care that I die? Probably not, and I think ultimately I'm fine with that, but the dream gave me pause and kinda fucked with me today haha.

Can I tell you a secret Tumblr? I have a burner Facebook account that I use to see how my old friends are doing. I am very anti-social media, and as part of that, have no real ways of keeping up with people from previous parts of my life aside from those who have my cell or email, so this gives me an outlet to see how friends I've made over the years are doing now.

Some of them never left my hometown, which kinda bums me out, because when I think of my time there, I couldn't imagine having stayed. But I have to consider that they may really love the place and have strong ties to it. I don't want to sound mean when I say that, but it's just a very small, quiet town that seems like a place you'd stay if you decided not to attend university or a trade school. And that's perfectly okay, too.

Some are thriving, too! A very good friend of mine recently got married, and I'm thrilled for him. I remember late nights at college talking with him outside of his dorm in the night air, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair, like the ones you see at Cracker Barrel. We'd talk philosophy, religion, girls, music, and much more. He's an awesome, genuinely kind hearted person and I'm glad to see he's doing well. He's not the only one, there are others who are all out there doing their thing, so to speak. I can't say why, but seeing these people I've known at some points in their lives doing well makes me incredibly happy.

Music is always a wonderful memory and hobby for me. Music is what brought most of my friends I've made and I together. I recently started playing guitar again (thank you Rocksmith 2014) and it has been a blast! I recently acquired a dream guitar of mine for awhile now: a Surf Green Fender MIM Strat. I fucking love it.

Piano is still on hiatus and has been for many, many years. I think it might intimidate me a bit. I eventually will have to bite the bullet and revisit it. I plan on using ABRSM resources to find some appropriate pieces for where I'm currently at. I'm hoping I can ramp back up to SOMEWHERE close to where I was when I went to school for music. I realize it may take years, but I think if I devote myself to it, I can achieve it. Honestly the hardest thing will be getting that dexterity back and remembering scales/fingerings/etc. Hopefully by the time I post next, I can report back with some success on that front!

Hobby coding-wise, I'm starting a new project using a new stack (for me): Java (Spring), Vue, and Postgres. My goal is to create a web application for Veterinarians offices for administrative use. This app will handle invoicing, communications with patients, store pet/owner data, store data regarding prescriptions, surgeries, etc., and probably more I'm forgetting. It's a lot of moving pieces, but it presents a fun challenge on both front-end and back-end, and frankly I've seen the most popular competition (Avimark) and it looks like dogshit. So my plan is to work on this for the foreseeable future, get an MVP up, snoop around my local area and see if anyone is interested in testing it out. This will be a long-term project, though. I have some ramping up to do with Vue as I have not used it since it was still in v1.0, so many things have changed!

Started watching Frieren and that shit kicks ass! The music, the animation, the art style. Only 4 episodes in, but it is easily top 5 anime.

JJK Season 2 has been fucking insane. It started off so crazy, I ended up binge reading the manga up until the end of the Shibuya Incident and holy shit. Seeing the Yuuji vs Choso fight animated was a fucking masterpiece!

Games-wise, I've been deep into WoW classic and FFXIV. FFXIV has always been my go-to, but lately I've been doing WoW and I love the customization that is possible within a class (priests, wars, etc builds can vary wildly and that's awesome!).

And I think that's all I've got! I've been drafting this post for the past 20 minutes-ish. I have to start winding down for today. This may be my longest post so far? Not sure, I'll compare it to my others word count-wise after this and confirm!

[not-xpr-art]

Art Advice #6 - Ways to combat social media fatigue as a creative person

Hi guys!

This week’s topic is something I think any artist who’s predominantly active on social media will relate to; that feeling of utter helplessness at trying to live up to social media algorithms, which can really impact your mental and physical health...  

I want to just offer some advice on how to feel less burnt out from art social media (advice I need to take myself sometimes)...

Ways to combat social media fatigue as a creative person (& how you can make social media overall a better place to be).

As I’ve already said, social media can take a big toll on your mental and physical health, particularly if you’re relying on it for your career (as a lot of artists and other creatives do). 

This blog post aims to offer some small pieces of advice to help make your life a little easier when navigating the world of art social media!

1) Algorithms are built to destroy creativity.

I think we’ve all had that phase where we try and keep up with the fast paced algorithms of social media that demand we produce new content day after day, as well as constantly interacting with other people’s posts and spending a minimum amount of time on the app. And all of this leads to feeling fed up and tired when you’re using that particular social media. 

For me, Instagram used to be such a wonderful place for sharing art. I met many amazing fellow artists, and the community that was formed their was genuinely lovely. Unfortunately, everything changed when the fire nation (Facebook) bought out the company & the whole site became so less friendly to smaller creatives. 

I’ve heard a similar story from a lot of artists, who find Instagram’s focus on excessive posting and engagement, which mainly rewards big influencers or celebrities and not smaller accounts of creative people, incredibly disheartening. The algorithms don’t allow artists to naturally explore their creativity, and it leads to more and more artists getting just completely creatively burnt out.

Of course, this all sounds really pessimistic, but it doesn’t have to be. For me, places like Tumblr and the newly created Artfolapp, which (although not perfect) offer a great alternative to the algorithm heavy apps like Instagram, Facebook or Twitter. As with all socials, there’s a huge element of luck that comes with posting art (timezones, audience, etc can all play major parts in how well your art does), but I always find places where posting doesn’t feel like a chore are a lot more enjoyable.

Alternatively, as simple as it sounds I think a great way to start approaching all social media is to not focus on numbers. Instagram actually recently gave the option of being able to hide likes on others and your own posts, which I actually think is a great idea! Once you become less focused on numbers I think you can breathe a little easier!

2) Numbers =/= Your worth as a creative person.

Following on from my last point, it can often feel like if you’re posts aren’t getting as much attention as you used to then there’s something wrong with the work your doing. 

Of course, this isn’t true at all, and most of us know this. Unfortunately if your posts are a part of your work, and the engagement they have is directly linked to how successful in your job you are (and how much money you make that week), then numbers are a lot harder to ignore. 

My biggest piece of advice for this is to visualise the numbers as what they are; people actually interacting with your work! So even if it’s only 1 person, that’s still 1 entire person who enjoyed what you posted! 

3) Luck be a b*tch, honestly ...

As previously mentioned, there is a lot of luck that comes with being successful on social media. Luck of posting in the right place at the right time, having one person with a bigger platform share your art, etc. 

So there isn’t a lot of advice I can give in this section. One thing I’d recommend is involving yourself in a particular community or fandom. Even if you don’t do fancontent, finding a community where you can meet like-minded people and support each other’s work is a really useful thing!! 

For fancontent (like fan art, edits, cosplay, covers, etc) you can just check out the tags of those fandoms! Even if it’s a small fandom, there is usually some content that already exists for it. Often by following a range of people in the various fandoms you enjoy can also lead to fun opportunities, like fan-zines or collaborations! 

For non-fancontent it can feel like it’s a lot harder to find people to relate to. One thing I’d recommend is to find independent magazines online which specialise in sharing creative works! This can offer great chances to get your work featured, as well as meeting some fellow creatives!

Basically, curating your social media experience to feature people that inspire you & support you not only makes for a more enjoyable time being on social media, but it also means there’s more potential your work will be seen!

4) Passion Pays.

Audiences often know when you’re producing something because you feel like you have to (perhaps it’s fancontent for something you gained a lot of followers from, or a particular style that you’ve done for a long time) rather than from genuine passion, and that can be to your detriment.

My advice is to do what you’re actually passionate about, even if that means that some people may not be as interested. For example, I gained a significant portion of my followers on other social medias from posting Kpop fanart. And although I still do this occasionally, I only ever really do it when it’s something I really want to draw. Even though I know I could churn out a lot of Kpop content that those people who followed me for it would really like, I also like drawing other things & going out of my comfort zone in art. 

And I know that the people who still follow and support me now understand this, and often appreciate that I draw things I’m unabashedly passionate about! It has also made me a lot happier overall with my own work, since I feel like I’m constantly pushing myself to do new and interesting things for me, and not to fulfil the interests of others! 

This can also include a complete turn around of the kinds of things you create, by the way! If you’ve been a 2D artist for ages, but suddenly develop a passion for 3D sculpture, then go for it! Those who are still interested in your work will stick around. As well as this, you’ll grow an entirely new audience with the new creative outlet you start sharing! It’s honestly a win-win situation, and don’t let the fear of people not accepting the change hold you back!

5) TAKE BREAKS!

Possibly the most important piece of advice in this post is to remember to take a break from social media! Even if it’s something you rely on for your job, and the algorithms demand you spend time on them, try to take periods of time during your day to switch off from it. 

Another thing I would also suggest is taking breaks from posting things. I did this in January because I wanted a break from forcing myself to live up to the hell of a posting schedule. I still did art, but without the pressure of having to post things I was able to take time and have a little more fun with it! 

A final thing in this part that I’d suggest is taking breaks from doing creative stuff occasionally. If you’re anything like me, you probably spend nearly every day doing or at least thinking about creative things. And that can become very tiring! Whether it’s taking a week, a few days, or entire months, remember that your creativity and skill aren’t just going to disappear if you take a break from it for a bit! 

I think creative people tell themselves that if they don’t keep posting, then people are going to stop supporting their work. But in my experience, people stick around even if you haven’t posted something in years! Because if someone enjoys your work, then they’re going to stick around regardless! 

TL/DR

Basically to sum up, social media can be hell to navigate with it’s obsessive algorithms and posting schedules. But if you allow yourself to adapt to other sites/apps that don’t rely on those things, don’t fixate on numbers, curate your experience to both be inspiring and supportive, let your passion shine through, and remember to take breaks, then social media can become a lot more enjoyable! 

I hope this post was somewhat helpful to anyone who struggles with this... I have to admit that I often don’t take my own advice in regard to social media, but I thought me posting this could help both of us out lol!

Check out my other Art Advice posts here if you’re interested!

#art advice #social media #art social media #creative people #social media advice #artist advice #advice #this is about 1400 words long btw... not the longest thing i've ever written but also not the shortest hmm #also as always feel free to message me if you want any more advice #or if you want me to write a post about something specific??? #can be about literally anything art related!!

[ruinedandnotorious]

tumblr, listen.

i have a lot on my mind and i need to get it out and i have too many other people looking at my other social media accounts to say it all there. i should’ve known my old pal tumblr would be there for me.

woo lord, i am frustrated. and anxious. i keep feeling like i’m on the precipice of something. that all of my work and hope and traction is going to lead... somewhere. somehow. sometime. but i don’t know how or with who and certainly not when and i wish the when was yesterday. 

i have so many ideas i can’t get off the ground for whatever reason. i’ve tried though! i sent off some applications, submissions and emails this week that will hopefully yield some kind of results. yesterday i was very much in that mindset of, “they can bite you, but they can’t eat you,” so i just went for things. 

i’ve put things out into the world, but it never hurts to put them out there more. so, here goes.

i am lucky to have the job that i have. the money sucks, but my boss is super flexible with my time and supportive of my volunteer work. i actually really like every single coworker, which has never happened before, lol. 

right now, though, we are only working 30 hours... which is PERFECT for my mental health, but AWFUL for things like rent and bills. i’m making it, but that’s literally it. i need more money, majorly. but man, i enjoyed the hell out of unemployment last year. i want a new job - one that pays well - and one that doesn’t feel like work. i know, that’s everyone’s dream. but i feel like i am so close to getting there but it’s always just out of reach.

my job is fine, truly. it’s easy. it’s cushy - i’m working from home, thank god. BUT staying inside all day is getting to me physically and, unless i have a work meeting or am recording my podcast, i don’t talk to anyone but my cat (and my mom, by phone), so it can really drain my mental health. but i also don’t want to get out too much because, hello, goddamn covid.

this last year has taught me a lot, but it’s also changed how i socialize. i’ve always been introverted but it’s worse now and i’m picky about who/how i socialize. i have this one friend that i’ve known since elementary school. we’ve always been friends, but never super close. we have nothing in common, literally nothing. for a while, that didn’t matter. it was fun to catch up. now, though? the friendship feels like a chore. i hate saying that. but i don’t know that either of us get anything out of it, really. but she keeps trying to reach out and i’ve ignored her every time. i’ve ignored her for MONTHS. she deserves a response. but i also know that any response will just fuel the fire. i hate to be like, can we not? but every time i try to work myself up to respond to her, i just can’t. it’s like my brain is like, no, we’re not saying anything. no. don’t even consider it. i just have this block. i feel so bad saying that. she’s done nothing wrong! but i also know i tiptoe around stuff because, again, we have nothing in common, so it’s not like i can just freely speak my mind about anything. she doesn’t give a shit about anything i’m into an vice versa, so it’s frustrating to just update my life like, “well, i work, that’s it.” because she doesn’t give a damn about anything else i’m doing or am into. UGH. like. why does she want to keep this going? i had someone - like a best friend (not this friend i’m talking about, but one that’s much closer to me) - tell me recently that i am a shitty friend so... this is proof. yay.

anyway. i met someone recently who blew my damn mind. she’s a spiritual advisor/counselor, and we instantly connected about so many things but i also learned so much from her - in just the few hours we talked. i want to do an actual session with her, but her rates are high and i don’t have the money. i’ve thought about asking her if i could trade some social media services for a session - like basically be her social manager for a month - but i also know money is money and she’s worth actual money, not likes/followers on social. i don’t know. i do not want to disrespect her; i know she’s worth every penny.

but she did confirm some things i’ve wondered about in terms of those i’ve lost. she gave me a bit of peace. but i have more questions. like, a whole page of questions, lol.

she also opened my eyes to some healing work i need to do on myself... in a lot of ways, but especially in regards to my last job and how they fucked me over. i have so much anger and hurt from that, a year later. and i even consider what they did to me a blessing - it’s really led to a life that is more in line with what i actually want and value. i’m just angry at how it all went down and how they still act - or don’t - toward me. 

the mag i work for let me write about my dad’s passing and the complications of covid grief, so that was great - i had an outlet for that. but how do you go about getting your feelings out about your last employer... who’s a major player in town and who drives tourism for the city.. lol. i’m sure i’ll let it all out here sooner or later.

i jumped back on a dating site, 100% for the distraction, not because i thought i’d actually meet someone. which is probably why i haven’t, lol. like... no one even comes close to what i think i want in a man. i keep hoping someone will show up at the cemetery... yes when i’m covered in graveyard dirt and sweat and looking my worst... i also feel bad that i keep hoping the cemetery will answer all of life’s questions and fix me in all the ways. like. my expectations are too high - of a cemetery! - so i’m sure my expectations for a guy are too high too.

i’m also not ready to meet someone because i am physically just not into a relationship either. i’m my biggest i’ve ever been. i was doing so well at  becoming body neutral - just accepting of my body, not so much loving it - but woo lord, i somehow gained like 10 pounds over the last week and i am feeling it, big time. idk how i’ve gained so much when i mostly eat at home? and i don’t think i’m eating THAT bad at home? i never fry anything? i do eat a lot of cheese i guess. i don’t know. gonna go to the doctor soon and i’m sure THAT will be a fun visit. plus, my hands - especially my left hand - has really bad trigger finger (i’m guessing that’s what it is, it meets all of the symptoms on webmd lol) and it hurts so bad. i don’t wanna go back to an ortho. 

there are other issues, specifically concerning shark week (i asked my psych doc about it and she made me feel normal, so thank god for her), that i’ve got to get squared away, too. it feels like my body has just ran away from me and i can’t control any part of it.

i’ve read so many good books in the last year, holy shit. lately i’ve been watching movies while i work and holy shit, classic movies are so damn good. claude rains, man. 

pose is amazing. blanca is like, the perfect human ever? if ever i run away to start a new life, i’m using the name elektra abundance. i. love. elektra. so. much. 

i’m angry at myself because i’ve always wanted to collect mini brands and dammit i finally bought my first ball and... yep. i wanna get ‘em all. they are $7 a ball. i don’t need this stupid, expensive thing to be into.

that’s just it. i wish i had the money for little frivolous things like that. there’s an edgar allan poe tarot deck at my local witchy shop that i am DYING for. i want a new tattoo - not even anything that big or expensive! 

i really want a damn vacation. i feel so bad saying that. but i just want out of this area for a second.

SIGH.

generally... life’s alright. i just want it to be better and maybe a little more exciting.

#weight #body issues #life #money #jobs #wtf am i even doing #tv #friendship

[theyearsiturnedintoaghost]

Hello, Is This Thing On?

Hi! (as mentioned above). Do people still use this thing? I have no idea. Years ago, and I do mean YEARS ago, I had one of these. I didn’t use it for much, just reposting things, following humans I’d met in online communities, a ‘celebrity’ here or there, sometimes screaming about shit I couldn’t control into the void that is the endless scrolling interweb, and being pointless in wasting my time between classes, work, and twenty-something. Regardless, my previous tumblr had minimal followers, made minimal impact, and that was okay. It was honestly just a nice place to sort of hide in plain sight. Still be part of a social world without actually having to do much. This was also pre a billion other apps and social media outlets to express yourself or scroll mindlessly at a million other pointless things that people were posting to make you giggle or even just stop for a second and think.  

Clearly, the point of this, back then, felt like something I would use to help propel my writing career. Turns out, it did not. I did not write much, if at all. And most of the time I think it was because I was scared nothing was as good as any of the other stuff I was reading from people I liked, and thought were so much cooler and smarter than me; I still feel this way all of the time, but I do realize this was me being nervous, small minded about myself, and completely unconfident.  

Unfortunately, I am still most of these things a lot of the time, but recently, after getting fired from a job, having my heart broken by pretty much everyone on the planet, especially a few specific people, cancelled by all of my friends (?) - this is a thing btw. (It’s not as awful as being cancelled publicly, but it does still ruin your life, mindset, confidence, and overall physical and mental wellbeing) Getting a new job, hating it and feeling like I was going no where, and missing out on living a life I felt proud of and that I was actively participating in, I decided maybe I should just try to write it all out and see what happens. 

To be frank, I expect nothing of this. I can’t fathom a world where anything I have to say truly matters to people because lets be real - everyone has this own shit and everyone is going through so much all of the time.  And we all think we have something new, quirky, interesting, and important to say.  And in a world that constantly shoves perfection down our throats and works so hard to make each of us feel completely inadequate to every Kardashian, Beyonce, Grande, etc., it’s hard to really think that anything I have to say will matter to anyone; at all. 

(I also hate that all of my ‘perfectionist’ people were female, but maybe it’s harder to compare to Golden Boys when you are a female. Either way, there are many boys/men/theys/thems that are put on a pedestal and made out to be perfect out there, as well, and they deserve that notation as well. I just have no points of reference off the top of my head, so please forgive me; I am trying to do this in a stream of consciousness type thing.)

I mean, the truth is, I’m a fucking mess. I’m 33, single, living at home, afraid of my own shadow most of the time, and spend about 98% of my time alone. I pay for a phone plan that I literally only use to send memes to my two sisters, and that’s about it. I rarely receive texts, invites out, or even calls to make plans for something.  And while a lot of this is my own doing - again, I did cut off most of the world after I realized I was sort of the joke to a lot of people - it’s still kind of pathetic, and entirely uncool.  I am not a socialite, or someone cool and trendy, and to be honest, I kind of never want to be.  

Which is a semi-false statement, because years ago, when I had one of these previously, I sort of hoped it would work out and that I could write and be ‘cool.’ Whatever the fuck that means.  But now, years later, I’m honestly beyond glad I am not cool; not in the slightest. Maybe that’s making it to your 30s? Maybe the trade for having to create a daily routine of lathering up my body with like 9 different versions of FDA-Approved-Vampire-Juice on my skin to prevent me from looking any older than I already do, you in turn get to have a brain that finally realizes... having a ‘normal’ life is honestly pretty cool? Normal is clearly subjective here as everyone is normal, famous, notoriety, or not; They’re all still humans and people with feelings, thoughts, and emotions. This is a hard thing to realize when you see stadiums full of people screaming at Harry Styles (Boom! found a male perfect in this scatterbrain) or hundreds of paparazzi lined up to take photos of every person on a red carpet wearing clothing that costs as much as my student loan debt (Which sidenote, is VERYYYYYY much). It’s hard to fully realize that maybe some of those people who became ‘icons’ never really knew what they were getting into when they signed that deal with the Devil to make them seemingly immortal; especially in a world with the internet where everything can exist forever (or until the world explodes, clearly).  But maybe getting into my 30s and removing myself from most social media outlets, even listening to the news, or caring about whatever fucking popular haircut was in this season (it’s always bangs, and I’ve already made that mistake. No thanks), that I learned to realize - the truly most important people in your life are the ones that stick with you when it’s tough. When getting out of bed is so hard your limbs ache and you cry every morning on your way to work, at your desk behind your computer screen hidden in a corner, or in a bathroom stall during your lunch break. The normalcy that comes with realizing your prayers to ‘just make it to five o’clock,’ are heard and that you are just so thankful for that that you don’t even desire the innate feeling in most of our egos to stand out, be seen, ‘Make it’ in a way that lets people notice we ‘succeeded.’ Maybe this only comes with the realization of how nice it is to go to a grocery store braless and unnoticed. 

Maybe this is also something I, and so many of us in this point and shoot viral world, are trying to still learn. 

Sure, a lot of days I still crave being able to make a perfect Pintrest project, practice my Late Night interview with Letterman where I sound funny, charming, and likeable to all walks of life, or recreate a recipe from the New York Times website so great that The Barefoot Contessa finds out through word of mouth, and comes to my basement hide out, and offers to give me, a fellow barefoot loving bitch, her title and crown along with a glass of wine and a kiss from her husband, Jeffery. We’ll both laugh at how lovely it feels to be Barefoot ladies who understand that wanting ‘fame’ or ‘recognition’ in your twenties is only really a pathway to destruction by your 30s. 

And this is not exactly something that I learned easy.  In fact, I spent most of my twenties destroying my body with drugs - plenty of hard ones - and alcohol - various kinds of the same things - in order to numb my brain from the sadness that is just... being young, lonely, scared, unsure of yourself, and nervous that all of your hopes and expectations for yourself in your ‘dream life’ are too much for what you and your actual self will ever be capable of ever becoming. That I would never become the comedian I dreamed of being, or sing the perfect song in front of a crowd of admirers, or write that best selling book to tell everyone who thought I was nothing they could go fuck themselves. It’s something I still have to remind myself, and my brain and ego, that are most likely things I will never do because those are lottery dreams.  And people you know don’t actually win the lottery. And at the end of the day, I am people you know. And sometimes it breaks my own heart to realize I may never feel that rush of making a crowd laugh, or creating a piece of art that makes someone feel seen, but as Pam, from The Office said, and I am paraphrasing, ‘there is beauty in ordinary things.’ And I think reminding myself of that as I sat on the beach this summer and watched a dad teach his son to surf, and how happy they both were when he got up, gave me that brief feeling of... being okay. I won’t lie, I did cry a little at this realization at that moment, and I am slightly teary now as I write it, but I think I’m not ashamed of that because being normal means I get to feel things as I do, in that moment, and that is something I think I lacked in my desiring-bigger-flashier- twenties; actually being present in the world and your place in it. Even if that is just as small as being kind to a random person on the street.

I think that is why everything I felt I wanted to write never came out correct.  It never came out ‘Perfect.’ And that was my problem for most of my life, even up until today, I’m afraid that I am a perfectionist in the ways that are preventing me from becoming... me. I’m still fearful that I am too late in ever ‘accomplishing’ anything I ever dreamed. I doubt I will ever actually write a book. I’m unsure I’ll ever make a decent living. I am beyond doubtful I am ever going to be loveable to someone whom I also want to love back. And maybe I’m a little scared that I’ll never have a kid, or that if I do have a kid, I’ll never be a decent parent. And I’m still working on breaking the cycle of thinking something has to ‘sound’ or ‘be seen as important’ to be meaningful. There is beauty in the ordinary. I’ve started to make it my mantra. Spoken in my head every time I see a teenage couple holding hands walking in town, a father holding their baby close to his chest, a woman dressed in a power suit striding through an office building or city on their way to make their own careers or push equality further. I’ve started to dream of how actual normalcy makes the real changes. How every 4th grade teacher has a chance to change some kids life.

Clearly, a lot of these personal fears I have about myself not being ‘enough,’ or doing something good enough to become successful at it and build a life out of it, are monotonous fears and privileged middle-class complaints. I’m aware they may not resonate with anyone, anything, or mean much more than just being an online public diary entry to my own meandering thoughts, but, still - I finally felt like I had to try.  

So here it is, the whole truth on how I let myself become a ghost for years. 

I hope someone will stick around while I just... try to explain it all, figure it all out, and hopefully make sense out of even being whatever a human who is hoping to grow even means. Hopefully, something here will resonate with someone else and we can create our own little weirdo corner of the world where we’re not seeking more than just trying to be honest with ourselves and what it means to be human.  Even if that means just posting a recipe for banana bread (thank you Gwen Steffani for keeping me able to spell Banana), reposting random memes about how we all want to scream for 30 seconds and feel better, or sad-girl diary entry posts about how I ruined my own life a million times over.  Oh, and maybe I’ll give you tips on how to stain your wood deck, because I spent my day doing that yesterday and basically, Home Depot is calling me to be in their ADs. 

But at the core of it all, lets be very real, it’s hard to be human in so many ways. And I’m just hoping this connects with anyone. Especially any of us who wished we were different - in any way.

xoxo

-K

#diary #unsurewhatiamdoing #hope you like it #thisis33 #whatitfeelsliketobeaghost #being lost #am i doing this right? #is anyone out there? #does honesty still matter #does any of this matter? #art #growth #being an adult #trying to face my fears #writersofig #writing #lame girl stuff #uncool life #hope this helps #this is the start of my apology #im glad you're happy #thank you #pop culture #nonfiction #this is 33 #unsure what I am doing #how I became a ghost #hard drugs #former addiction #therapy

[cilldaracailin]

Killer Queen

Hello my Tumblr lovely’s!

Who is ready for some more! It’s a good one if I do say so myself! ;) Hope you all enjoy!

Suze xx

6

“One of the most important things you can do on this earth is to let people know they are not alone.”

Robyn had left Taron just after four and it gave him some time to catch up with Lyndsey, quickly explaining to her about his little fan meet on the beach. While on the phone with him, his publicist did a quick scour of the usual social media outlets and as predicted the fan picture had appeared on social media but not received the backlash he thought it was going too and his posting of the Instagram picture had appeased most, though Lyndsey felt the need now to warn Taron that his visits to Ireland might not be completely media free as before, Taron’s whole body slumping onto the duvet in the tent as he listened, returning his answer with heated tones.

“I just need to give you the heads-up Taron, you know this. Don’t get crabby with me.”

“Sorry Lyndsey.”

“Look I know you want to protect her.”

“It’s more than that.” Interrupted Taron.

“And Robyn had proven herself very capable of dealing with the media Taron.”

“But it’s so different when it will involve her home.”

“And it won’t come to that and Taron, you know some reporters already have been at her home back in September and it was fine.”

Taron sighed heavily, rubbing his tired eyes. “Sorry Lyndsey.”

“Don’t be sorry. I know you love her and have this undeniable urge to defend her and watch over her but it’s not always possible Taron and at some point, you are going to have to accept that, especially if you keep inviting her to your events. It is going to get people talking as you bring her into the public eye more. If you want to protect her, you will have to leave her at home but if you want her by your side, now or in the future as something more, you will have to be ready to completely let her into your world.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry to me Taron.” Laughed Lyndsey. “Robyn has without a doubt gotten under your skin and believe me, I think the world of her and you know that.”

“I do.”

“Then trust me.”

“I do.”

Lyndsey smiled into the phone. She had worked with Taron for so long, she could read every emotion he was feeling from just the tone of his voice and his reactions and knew immediately he had a bad night’s sleep. “You are tired. I need to you to sleep tonight for me.”

“I will.”

“Taron…”

“I will Lyndsey and sorry again. It just rattled me. It’s not something I expected and wasn’t prepared for the photo.”

“And you dealt with it as you always do, with a cool and level head. You trust Robyn?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s just wait and see Taron. Normally stuff like this either blows up or floats around before it dies out. I am sure the premier will have more of a reaction than anything and before you say it, sure your picture and visit to Ireland will more than likely be a question asked of you while on promotion but you know how to answer these questions Taron and you know I have left it up to you as to how you want to do so. Robyn is a firm fixture in your life and most people understand it is because she saved your life and you don’t have to make excuses for that Taron. You should never make excuses for that.”

Taron nodded to himself. “Thanks Lyndsey. Sometimes I forget that part.”

Lyndsey rolled her eyes. “Don’t give me that shit Taron. You can’t bullshit me.” She heard him laugh a little. “I want you to stop over thinking, go and enjoy Robyn’s show tonight and then sleep, as best you can and I will see you bright and early at the Radio One studio on Sunday.”

“Sure.”

“And get as many hugs in as you can and remember them because as far as I can tell, Robyn’s hugs are the only thing that can calm you down lately.”

Taron chuckled. “I will try.”

“See you Sunday.”

“Thank you Lyndsey. Sorry for bugging you.”

“You don’t bug me Taron. Frustrate me at times but I know for a fact you do that to all the women in your life.” At last she heard a genuine chuckle from him. “Go and enjoy your last few hours of freedom.”

Taron ended the call and let his arm fall away from his ear, his phone falling from his hand and onto the soft duvet. As always, he let his worries over take him and once again it was another woman calming his fears. With Lyndsey’s promise to further double check everything for him, he found himself breathing a little easier and putting the thoughts of the photo to the back of his mind. Instead he focused on the evening to come and another chance to watch Robyn on stage in her element and he was just a little excited to see her in her stage gear once more but his face frowned as he remembered all the kisses from the night before but Robyn had promised him it wouldn’t happen again.

“And I am not jealous.” He said turning his head to look at the two dinosaurs who still sat together inside the tent as he had left them earlier. They both grinned back at him. “I am not.”

But his beating heart and rise in body temperature said otherwise. Taron rolled over into his stomach and let a muffled scream out into the pillow, his anxiety about the photo, his upcoming tour and his love for Robyn causing emotions and feelings he was finding so hard to cope with. He reached for his phone and pressing number one on his speed dial, groaned once more into the pillow.

“Hello love.”

“Hey mam.”

“Taron, love what’s wrong?” Tina could immediately hear the deflation in her son’s voice.

“Mam I can’t do it anymore.”

“Do what love?”

“Robyn.”

Tina just about heard the whispered of the woman’s name who had wiggled her way into her son’s heart because his voice was laden with sadness. “Taron?” Tina listened to silence for a few seconds. “Taron, sweetheart?”

“It hurts too much to love her mam.” He turned his head sideways on the pillow. “Even more so because I can’t tell her because that fucker hurt her so badly she not only believes she doesn’t deserve to be loved but that it’s something that doesn’t exist and I can’t sit here anymore and not tell her that I love her because it is what she deserves and she needs to know that love is wonderful and thrilling and she is most definitely worthy of it and I want to be the one to love her. I need to be the one.”

“Ok Taron you need to slow down, stop speaking in riddles and start from the beginning.”

With a rush of words and long sentences, Taron burdened his mother with his worries and woes, once starting to speak, finding it hard to stop until he had managed to get everything off his chest, including the fact that he was actually very jealous of the stage kisses.

“Mam why are you laughing?”

“Taron this is what love is, what it does to you and I know you love her.”

“And you still stand by your advice of not telling her?”

“Yes.”

“Mam!” He groaned.

“Yes Taron I still do even more so after what that fucker as you call him did to her.”

“That was actually Robyn’s mam’s words, not mine.”

“I really need to get Robyn’s mam’s number. I would like to have a chat with her at some point.”

“Mam don’t change the subject.”

“You told me when you met Robyn, she wouldn’t let you in and it took a lot of trust for her to open up to you and it was a man who betrayed her trust Taron. The fact that she has let you in speaks volumes for how she feels about you.”

“I wish she would just tell me.”

“Women don’t think like men do.”

“Well I know that mam.”

“And I don’t just mean thinking with certain body parts.”

“Ugh mam seriously?”

“Well Taron you went into some detail about that kiss and a pair of short purple shorts so I am just returning with the information you have given me.”

“Maybe I should talk to Guy.”

“Taron, Robyn has been badly hurt in the past and I know you know that but because it was a man who did it, she will be very guarded when it comes to a new man in her life. She will be scared to let one in, to actually admit she loves one even if that one is you Taron. She won’t open her heart to someone for fear it will be broken again. A woman’s heart is a very delicate thing, especially a torn one.”

“Mam I know she loves me.”

“And I am sure she does but Robyn has to realise it for herself.”

“Her kiss made it pretty clear.”

“And that was a kiss from a bet. There is a difference I am sure between a kiss from a bet and a kiss she wants to give you of her own accord.”

“But it was a kiss.”

“Sweetheart, women are complicated.”

“You don’t need to tell me that.” Taron rolled over into his side. “I just don’t know how much longer I can wait to tell her.”

“As long as it takes Robyn to tell you. You want to protect her and show her that you love her than keep doing all the wonderful things you have been doing for her. She will come around Taron.”

“It’s so hard mam.”

Tina felt for her son. “Is she worth it?” She asked. “Is she worth the traveling and the tiredness and the longing that you have worth it for one hug, or one cuddle you get from her?”

“Of course.”

“Then you will wait Taron. I know you chose your career for your love of acting Taron and I don’t hold your choice against you and you know how proud me and your step-dad and your dad are of you but for a woman to step into your world, you are asking a lot. However, Robyn has taken it all in her stride and is joining you for your premier, one which will be filled with press from around the world, live TV coverage and more publicity than Robyn will have ever faced. I think it’s clear she loves you if she is willing to do that for you. Also, she cooked for you and baked. She definitely loves you Taron but please try and be patient with her. If you rush her, you could trigger some of those feelings of rejection she still has in the back her mind.”

“I don’t want that to happen.”

“Love is hard Taron. No one said it was easy.”

Taron sighed. “If it was easy it wouldn’t be real.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true. Just keep doing what you are doing love. Robyn has a beautiful heart and you know I adore her and how she looks after you but you keep doing these little things for her and soon, she will come to her senses.”

“How long…”

“As long as it takes her Taron.”

“Thanks mam.”

“Anytime love. You are not going to blurt it out this evening?”

“No mam.”

“Even after you see her dressed in leather.”

“Mam!” Taron’s scoff turned to a light laughter. “Though I have seen her in a towel.”

“Taron David Egerton!”

Taron chuckled at his mam’s scolding. “And she has seen me in one too.”

“Taron!”

“I love you mam.”

“Yeah and I love you. Be gentle with her heart ok? Like I said, it’s been torn before and still a bit brittle.”

“I will mam.”

“Taron, I truly believe you can heal it for her. Just give her the time to figure that out.”

“Thank you mam.”

“Ring me tomorrow when you get back to your flat ok?”

“I will do.”

“And tell Robyn I said hello.”

“I will.”

With a heavy sigh, Taron dropped his phone onto the pillow in front of his face. He trusted his mam’s advice and judgement more than anyone’s and although it was not what he wanted to hear; he knew she was right. Robyn had been treated horribly before and he knew himself she was guarded but when it came down to him, he also knew she trusted him and he would do nothing to break that trust but taking his mam’s guidance, he knew but hated that he would have to wait for Robyn to figure out that she loved him as much as he loved her.

After a nap, he hadn’t realised he had taken until he woke up, Taron quickly showered and changed, pulling his black hat onto his head again and made the quick ten-minute walk to the hall with five minutes to spare before the performance started. Robyn’s little head massage had helped to ease a niggling headache he had felt earlier, knowing it was from lack of sleep but the two paracetamol he had routed out from her drawer had lifted it completely and as he sat on the inside edge of the row four, he kept his hat on his head and his eyes on the programme, one that he bought from Jane on the way into the hall, ignoring the smirk on her face.

With his closeness to the stage and his second time watching the show, he noticed things he hadn’t before, including how tight Robyn’s stage outfits actually were and her facial expressions as she sang and danced and the wink she definitely threw his way before she slid down the fire pole and he chuckled as she smoothly slid down the pole with ease and grace.

The other thing he definitely noticed was the stage kiss between Robyn and Cathal just before the first act ended and he was sitting up in his chair, the programme twisted in his hands again as Cathal grabbed Robyn by her hips and pulled her tight against him and kissed her hard. What upset Taron the most was that he could see Robyn place her hands on her co-stars chest to push him away from her and the flicker of anger in her eyes before she put her arms around him and turned them around so her back was to the audience, Cathal’s face going straight into her neck. Taron glared at him, hearing his teeth grind and a very quiet growl come from deep within him. Robyn had told him that she had spoken to Cathal and he had been warned not to kiss or touch her and he had clearly leaped over boundaries once again and Taron was fuming as he sat, putting his hat back on his head as the house lights came back on.

He saw Jane walking towards him, selling raffle tickets and he motioned towards her.

“Hey you.”

“Is there any way I can talk to Robyn?” He asked quickly trying to keep his voice steady.

“To Robyn?” Jane asked.

“Yeah. Any chance?”

“Well I am not too sure. The cast have about fifteen minutes to catch their breath and change before they are back on stage.”

“Please Jane.”

She looked to him and sighed. “Come with me.”

Taron stood up and dropped his programme on the chair and followed Jane out through the main doors of the hall and around the front of the building and then through a side gate. They walked down a narrow pathway and out into a very small open garden with a picnic bench on which Robyn was sitting her head in her hands. Taron mouthed thank you to Jane and quickly walked over to stand in front of Robyn.

“You need a squishy hug?”

Robyn looked up in surprise to see Taron standing in front of her and without a word, jumped down from the picnic table and into his open arms, snuggling deep into his warmth, feeling his arms hug her tightly.

Before the show started and once she was dressed and ready to go, she had spoken to Cathal about the stage kisses and he assured her he wouldn’t try anything but he broke his promise just before the first act ended and their kiss after their duet was hard and fast and horribly wet and Robyn had tried to push Cathal away but he only pulled her disgustingly firm against him but somehow she managed to break their kiss, push him on his chest hard and turned their closeness into a hug, Cathal’s face immediately going straight to her neck, into where Taron always nestled his face so closely and Cathal’s hot breathe on her neck made her skin crawl and a cold shiver run right through her.

Once the stage went dark, Robyn shoved Cathal away from her, lifted her knee and aimed hard for his crotch before she ran down the steps ignoring all her cast mates who called her name and stormed outside, taking to pacing up and down the small garden before taking a seat on the picnic bench, her head in her hands. She was thoroughly frustrated. She hated being taken advantage of and had already been in a position like that with Keith and she had worked so hard to get over him and how he treated her and she could slowly feel her insecurities creeping back in as Cathal made her feel as small as a mouse. Keith often used his physical strength against her and Cathal was doing the same and Robyn hated feeling not in control.

She was running shaking hands down her face when Taron’s voice filled her ear and there he was standing in front of her, his arms open for a hug and she didn’t need to be asked twice if she wanted a hug. She was desperate for comfort that only Taron could give her and he did it with his wonderfully strong arms, warm chest and beating heart.

“Breath darling.” Taron whispered into her curly hair. “Take a breath.”

“I am going to murder someone by the end of tonight.”

Taron chuckled into her hair. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

Robyn snuggled more into his shoulder and allowed herself to sink into him, feeling his hands rub up and down her back, the material of the cropped top moving so eventually his hands met with the heated skin of her back. He rested his hands flat on her lower back, his thumbs grazing softly back and forth over the dip in her skin above her skirt.

“Hey Robyn, we need to get that costume change going. Oh sorry!” Dee had walked out to once again locate one of the female leads of the musical to get her ready for the second act but she was wrapped up in a cosy looking cuddle in the arms of man who had appeared from nowhere. “I will give you a second.”

“Thanks Dee. I will be there in two.”

Robyn ran her hands in circles around Taron’s back before gripping his long sleeved stripped t-shirt in her hands. “Thank you.” She murmured into his t-shirt.

“You ok?”

“Not really.” Robyn felt how Taron’s whole body froze for the briefest second before he resumed his back rub for her. “But I will be.”

“I am going to have a word with him.”

Robyn pulled herself from Taron immediately but her hands were still wrapped around his back. “No you won’t.”

“Robyn he cannot fucking do that do you. It’s disgusting and almost harassment and I won’t have anybody do that to you.”

“True but you won’t go near Cathal.”

“Robyn…”

She placed her hands on his cheeks. “He is already going to find it hard to walk straight for a while. He doesn’t need any words.”

Taron grinned under her hands. “Stiletto?”

“Knee.”

Taron winced but moved to place a soothing kiss on her head. “Good girl.”

“I told him yesterday it was going to happen if he tried to kiss me again.” She felt her hands being taken, as Taron took them from his cheeks. “You can understand somewhat because like me you still get flashbacks of Florida but sometimes I get some from Keith and unfortunately unwanted kisses are part of them.”

“Robyn…”

“Not ours.” She confirmed immediately.  “But the force of what Cathal does is uncomfortable and unprofessional.”

The Welshman immediately engulfed her in another hug, desperately wanting to show Robyn what a kiss should be but her little confession only further confirmed his talk with his mam earlier and Robyn was definitely more than a little brittle and now was not the time for a kiss so instead he hugged her so close to him.

“Thank you Taron.”

“I am always here for you Robyn. Always.” He was trying so hard to keep his cool, knowing the arsehole who was taking advantage of her was only a few footsteps away and while on the outside he was showing himself to cool and composed, inside he was seething.

“Ahem.”

Both turned to see Dee once more standing at the door.

“I am really sorry Robyn but we only have five minutes. I really need to get you changed.”

“I am coming Dee.”

Robyn let Taron go and took in his concerned eyes which were frantically searching hers. She lifted her hands and fixed his hat so it sat straight on his head. “I will be fine. I always am.” She assured him, moving forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. My knight in shining white and navy stripes and a black hat.” She half smiled. “Go and enjoy the rest of the show.”

“That bastard better not touch you.”

“Well he has to…”

“Out of script I mean.”

“Don’t charge the stage Taron.”

Her words made him grin a little. “He tries anything and you may have a new cast member.”

“Robyn!”

“I had better go.”

“I will wait for you at the end of the show.”

“You had better.”

Robyn turned away from him and walked quickly back into the backstage area and through the curtain for the female dressing area.

“You have three minutes.” Dee said holding a make-up brush while Laura was beside her with a hairbrush. “And he is beautiful.” Robyn didn’t answer her as she sat in the chair but she whole heartedly agreed with the make-up artist but Taron was more than beautiful. He was perfect. “Might need to hold off on the blush for the second act.”

“That was some hug Robyn. You get them often?” Asked Laura as she stood behind her and quickly fixed her hair.

“How did you see the hug?” Robyn asked her with her eyes closed as Dee topped up her eye shadow.

“We all saw it.”

“You all peaked out the door?”

“Naturally.”

“Jesus.”

“And we are all a little jealous of it.”

“He gives good hugs.” Robyn confirmed. “Everyone saw it then?”

“Everyone but Cathal and Jude.” Replied Laura.

“Jude is livid.” Dee explained as she fixed some smudged eye liner. “Pulled Cathal outside the hall to talk to him.”

“Steve would be stepping in if he was able.”

“Just my luck that he happened to break his hand.” Sighed Robyn.

“Your male friend, that’s Taron right?” Asked Laura as she sprayed Robyn’s hair, seeing the curls bounce as Robyn nodded. “He’s something else.”

“Yeah he is.”

“Ladies, we nearly done? We have about thirty seconds.” They heard Jude call in through the curtain.

“Go and get changed.” Said Dee as she let Robyn up from the chair. “And hey, Cathal really struggled into his leathers. We watched.”

Robyn moved over to the clothes rail and quickly stripped down and pulled on her dress for the opening scene of the second act, making sure it was straight, her heart racing. She had never known a man like Taron before who knew her so well, who knew what she needed and she desperately needed the hug and it seemed he did too and she also knew he was mad. She could see it in him even though he tried his best to keep his anger in, she could feel the tension in his body and she had never felt protected and loved more than right there and then.

“You have about five seconds to get on stage. Just go from stage left.” Jude met her as she came out from around the curtain. “I am sorry I can’t replace him Robyn.”

“It’s ok.” She said as she walked past him and to the side of the stage.

“No it’s not. I have spoken to him and he knows.”

“We haven’t a chance of the AIMs award.”

“We have every chance. Now go and kill it like you always do.”

Robyn nodded, her eyes going to Taron as he sat back in his seat. She had been able to see him the whole show and when she thought it would have made her nervous, it was the opposite and knowing he was there only made her want to perform perfectly and hit every note and give the best performance she could managed because Taron had travelled to see her and support her. With a long breathe she skipped on stage a little later than normal, turning her focus on being Mimi, looking Cathal in his eyes, showing him that she was not taking any of his shit.

As Taron sat back in his seat, he was still furious and once more the programme was twisted in hands. He was so glad he had been able to see Robyn in between the two acts, thankful he could be there to give her some comfort but he was pissed off and his anger stull bubbled under his skin, even more so when he learnt that Keith had taken advantage of Robyn through one of the most intimate gestures a man can get from a woman. A kiss.

“Fucker.” He muttered under his breath as the house lights dimmed and the music for the second act started to play. Robyn took the stage a little later than the night before, going straight into her song and Taron could see her standing straight and keeping directly in character with Cathal. He didn’t understand how she could do it but like he was a professional actor knowing where his responsibilities lay so did Robyn and she showed that by her perfect performance.

He was on his feet cheering and wolf-whistling before anyone else in the hall and he didn’t care. It was what he had wanted to do last night but because he was keeping a low profile, he couldn’t but now that Robyn knew he was here, once the house lights went up before the cast took their bow and sang their final song, he was clapping hard. His standing ovation spurred everyone else in the hall to get to their feet too and when Robyn ran on stage to take her bow, Taron whooped and called even louder, seeing her laugh at him and she blew him a kiss and gave a curtesy.

He freely sang along as the cast took an encore of Seasons of Love and applauded until they had all left the stage. He side stepped from his chair, into the walkway to let the people sitting the row he was in to get out before he sat back in his seat. He was even more proud of Robyn compared to last night and as he sat on his chair, his joy for Robyn turned a little sad as he thought about how this time tomorrow, he would be back in London and up to his eyes in work. His flight was early the next morning and Robyn had promised to bring him to the airport as she always did but he wasn’t really looking forward to it. He never did enjoy saying goodbye but this weekend had been so special for him because he had been the one to spoil and treat Robyn and he loved doing it for her. He was so thankful it wouldn’t be another eight weeks or so before he saw her again, only two weeks until they hopefully would see each other for dinner in Paris.

“So, was it better the second time round?”

Jane walking over to him broke his thoughts. “Absolutely. Thank you again for getting me to her.”

“You are more than welcome.”

“Guess I really owe you that signed photo now.” He smiled as Jane blushed.

“Robyn told you about that then?”

“She tells me things.”

“I am sure she does.” Jane nodded. “It was nice to see you again Taron and that little smile. Good luck with your tour.”

“Thanks Jane.”

“I’d imagine she will be out quicker tonight. You can go and wait at the curtain if you want.”

“I think I will do that.”

Taron got to his feet, slipped on his coat and made his way over to where the curtain separated front of house from backstage and stood waiting patiently for Robyn to come out. He was looking forward to going back to hers, letting her shower and although he didn’t have any more surprises for her, he just wanted to give her the longest cuddle as they lay in the tent.

“I told you I have nothing to say to you. Just piss off Cathal.”

On hearing her heated tones, Taron ignored the shouts of entry refusal from the people at the curtain and barged straight through the black material into the private backstage area of the cast members, seeing Robyn and Cathal in a stand-off, some space between them. He briskly walked to Robyn and stood in front her, his back right against her chest.

“She said piss off, loud and clear.”

Robyn was more than relieved that Cathal had played the part of Roger as he was supposed to play it during the second act and didn’t even attempt to try anything and any kisses they shared were simple stage kisses and nothing more. Once their final bow was taken, she was the first off stage and into the dressing area, pulling her tattered dress over her head and hanging it on the hanger before she pulled on her jeans and Taron’s Hawaiian shirt. She had worn it to rehearsal, needing to feel a comfort and security from having a piece of him with her and after she had buttoned the middle buttons, tied the bottom ends of the shirt in a knot, so it sat on the waistband of her jeans. She was more than ready to say goodnight and go home, shower and change into her wonderful cosy dolphin PJ’s and another piece of Taron’s clothing, sit in her tent and eat the cupcakes Taron brought her yesterday and just be in her own home with him. As she grabbed her bag and coat, she said a quick goodnight to her other cast mates and director and made her way towards the curtain but she was stopped by Cathal who pulled on her hand, Robyn dropping it like it was a hot coal.

She was about to tell him to leave her alone again when Taron suddenly appeared and stood in front of her, saying it for her, his arms moving out a little so Robyn couldn’t get by him.

“I just wanted to talk to her.” Cathal frowned at the presence of the new man in front of him, blocking his view of Robyn from him.

“I don’t think she has anything she wants to say to you.” Taron replied, trying to keep his temper at bay.

“Look I just want to apologise to her.”

“And I really don’t think it’s good enough.”

“Taron…” Robyn placed her hand on his right wrist.

“You really have nothing to do with this.” Cathal said as he took a step closer to Taron. “You are not her boyfriend.”

“And neither are you.” The Welshman returned. “But I am a man who has respect for women and you clearly don’t. Touch her again and…”

“And what? Is that a threat?”

Taron laughed. “No mate, I don’t need to threaten you. Not when Robyn can do that all her own. How’s the prince jewels feeling?” He asked with a half grin. “Lucky it wasn’t her heel that made its mark.”

There was a titter of giggles from around the cast members as they stood watching the confrontation.

“I don’t need to be her boyfriend to show her respect. It’s what a man does but clearly you are not a man but a boy, taking advantage of a situation because you know otherwise you have no chance. She is much too good for you anyway.”

Taron had learnt his lesson from New Year’s Eve and with the training from Kingsman still fresh in his mind not too mention that still bubbling anger, he quickly dodged the oncoming punch that made its way to him, grabbing Robyn and pulling him with her as he side stepped to the right, Cathal falling over onto the floor in heap as he over balanced when his fist met with blank air.

“You never stood a chance. Tosspot. You ready to go Robyn?”

“Definitely.”

Robyn said a quick goodbye to her friends, not even apologising for Taron’s sudden appearance and keeping his hand in hers, led him out from the backstage area and out of the hall into the fresh night air.

“You are really following through with this knight in shining armour thing, aren’t you?” She asked him.

“I heard you tell him to piss off and I kinda saw red. I wasn’t going to let him even speak to you after what he did earlier and we are going the wrong way.” Taron turned his head as Robyn led him away from the bridge that brought them towards her house.

“I feel like a spice bag.”

“What on earth is a spice bag?”

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Love #Friendship #Emotions #Protection #Knight in Shining Armour #Cuddles and Hugs #Musicals #Kisses #Anger #Robyn and Taron

[ceallachs]

thank you.

This announcement is a little overdue, but I’ve gained over 1k followers on this blog! 🥳🥳🥳

I actually passed this milestone a while ago. Life has just been getting to me with so much to do that I can only manage a couple of drawings at a time. So I don’t have anything special other than my heartfelt thanks and some words. Under this post, I address a lot of things in regards to my art journey, fandoms, future plans with BakuTodo, and a lot of it is about AkaKuro.

So if you are interested, please read on. If you’re here just to check my art, thank you. Thank you for taking the time to let my work be part of your day and for your support. ^^

.

I know I was mostly only posting KnB/AkaKuro stuff until only a couple months ago, so the change from KnB to BNHA was pretty drastic and nerve-racking. I’ve been thinking of making the move as early as December 2019, but I hesitated for the longest time. As someone who has built their fandom “identity” around AkaKuro and KnB, making that move to another fandom, to another OTP even, may have come as a surprise to a lot of my old followers and friends. I do not keep track of every individual followers I get; surely some have left, or maybe some still stick around to see if I will get back to AkaKuro again, one day.

Interests are fleeting and people change constantly. In a time where people always jump onto the next big thing to another in a short span of time, I can say that I have a pretty good streak of committing to my main fandoms. My first online fandom lasted for seven years. The next was KnB, and this one lasted for nine years.

I was a teenager when I joined the KnB fandom and now I’m in my 20s. I still love AkaKuro with all my heart; it will always be a big part of who I am, but I have to admit at some point where I am now in life, and I will say I have already moved on.

This is an excerpt from my Twitter that I thought I should also address here because it sums up everything I’ve wanted to say. I’ve made some major tweaks and edits and added more things to properly articulate my feelings about the matter. I hope it is understandable enough.

It started in November.

In the first few months of dabbling with BakuTodo, I was very, very scared. I was worried because I was such a prominent person for the AkaKuro fandom; I hosted and held events for years, I stayed "active" for AkaKuro even five years after KnB had ended. I wrote fics, drew stuff, promoted every AkaKuro thing I can even when all my AkaKuro friends have moved on. I have so much AkaKuro merch and doujins because it had taken over my life that prominently. 

So after all of that, I didn't know what would happen with a change because I felt like I was already in too deep to move on now. I wasn't sure if I could (should) like anything else, or if I was even allowed to like something else as deeply as AkaKuro without letting people down.

Eventually I just gave in three months later and became more vocal about this new interest. I lost followers which was expected, even those whose handles that became very familiar to me because they actively interacted with me about AkaKuro and KnB before. It stung but not as badly as I thought it would. The change was nice; I felt free.

I think it's only now that I've become comfortable to admit all this in public. To admit my worries, to admit that I've liked a ship more than AkaKuro for a while, to admit that the weight of AkaKuro being prominently tied to my name like an identity has become too heavy a burden to bear. I still do love AkaKuro, it's a part of my life that will never change, I think. But it's also not my main source of happiness nor inspiration anymore, and I hope that, it's okay for me to feel that way now that I've said it out loud.

It's strange to explain, but I think it's because I've dedicated a huge chunk of my life to AkaKuro that I think I've already exhausted all I have to give for it. Nine years of being solely dedicated to one ship is a long time, you have to admit. It's not like my other ships that are more casual, so that burst of excitement will always be present when it gets brought up once in a while. With AkaKuro, my feelings for it have significantly mellowed down, like a precious memory now tucked away in a special place in my heart.

A friend told me that it's okay to move on, and that somewhere down the line AkaKuro will become something I'll look back on fondly even though bittersweet. I have no doubts that'll be the case. But it's also nice to finally just be honest and set myself free.

I've also been feeling very guilty of promising an AkaKuro zine last December and now... it is just the last thing on my mind. I have so much more I want to do that is no longer about AkaKuro, and I shouldn’t force myself to do this zine out of obligation. But if ever someone else were to host an AkaKuro zine, I will support it and even participate if the timing is right.

About my future plans, I don’t think I will be drawing KnB again out of leisure (maybe for commissions, or projects, etc). I still have a lot of unfinished and unreleased KnB fanmerch though (an AkaKuro yukata standee and Carnival AkaKuro standee, and maybe a re-release of some old charms for the last time), so that may be the last of my contribution to this ship out of my own volition for a while. It would be a waste to scrap them.

Right now, all my love and inspiration for anything creative and self-indulgent is being driven by BakuTodo and it’s the best feeling I’ve had in a long time. I want to draw more about them; I have long list of ideas I’m excited to get into. Not only that, my love for writing was reawakened too, and I hope to also post fics about them along with my art.

I still love AkaKuro, and people can still talk to me about AkaKuro, but it is definitely not my priority ship anymore. Who knows if I'll come back to it again, but for right now, I hope everyone will be okay with the change. And if not, that's okay too and I expected it, I also put this out here to give the go signal if anyone wants to unfollow or not. I know there are people who only follow for specific content, and I've come to terms with myself to be okay with this happening with me.

Just know I'm happy where I am. I'm grateful to friends and acquaintances who still stick around to support me even after this, and I also understand if some don’t. I hope those who leave will find another content creator to cater to their needs. Thanks for giving me a chance. ^^

I hope this clears up the kind of content to be expected from me from now on. I will never forget my time in the KnB fandom because this is where it all started for me. I will also be slowly getting rid of more AkaKuro doujins, fanmerch, and official merch collection once the lockdown situation eases up. Hopefully someone else will find homes for them.

Tumblr is not my main social media but I still do like the format of blogging here, so I stay to cross-post my art from Twitter and Instagram. 

From exclusively drawing cheebs, I’m now also drawing non-cheebs and I’m having a lot of fun. My art is far from perfect and that’s okay. As someone who gave up on art for nine years, being able to do it again now, sharing and posting my art and actually be happy about it is more than enough for me. I’m not striving for perfection, I know where my level is at. Drawing and writing are both hobbies I hold dear -- a creative outlet for me to express my love for what I’m currently passionate about and what makes me happy. I really appreciate it if you stay with me for this ride because I know I’ve come a long way these past 2-3 years.

To anyone who views my art, likes and reblogs, leaves nice comments and all, I hope you know that I appreciate you a lot. I rarely get messages on here, but I do read tags on my posts often, and going through them always puts a smile on my face to know that I have an audience here who genuinely likes what I do.

There isn’t much more for me to say here so I think that will be all. Again, thank you for 1k+ followers! If I can make even just a single person happy with my art, whether you’re new here or just dropping by or have been following me for a long time, I’ll be content. And if I can make someone like BakuTodo too through how I portray them, that’d be even more amazing. ^^

Until next time. 💖

#chii speaks #akakuro

[starberry-cupcake]

Social media has become such a complicated tool to use if the content that you want to share is primarily text, and that’s becoming more and more complicated for me to use them professionally, as one has to nowadays. As someone who’s been around internet platforms since I was a kid, going through msn and yahoo groups and old forums, I’ve always been prone to adapt and jump from one to another without much issue. But this current landscape in which text is becoming more and more unwanted is turning too complicated to navigate for someone like me, who primarily writes. 

I’ll do this in read more, ironically enough, because I’ve been told my written posts are too long sometimes. 

Now that social media has become a professional tool and that the platforms developed into systems with their own codes (Bourdieu would have a field trip in this day and age), you have (at least) three sides to each platform. There’s what the platform is created for, what they had in mind when they designed it; there’s what people use it for, which tends to be entirely different; and then there’s the type of community that primarly exists in it, which in tow conditions the way you can use it, express your content or yourself and the type of following you can gather. 

Right now I have the conundrum of having a project that relates to my work and I need a social media outlet for that content. I was practically obliged to make an instagram, because it’s what everyone who took my classes asked me for. It’s where the authors I quote are, it’s where the illustrators I teach about are, it’s where my students are. 

So, I asked a friend some tips, she has a bookstagram which is fairly popular and she gave me some indications of how to manage the “side-insta”. Still, it’s a nightmare, you guys. I’m so so so frustrated. I’m frustrated because I painfully see, through my use, how my content and the platform’s three aspects are not compatible at all. 

Bookstagrams are primarily two types, at least the popular ones. There’s the one my friend uses, which consists on pretty photos of the books in question and reviews of said books as bookstagrammers finish reading them or responses to challenges they dare each other to do in the “community”. The other type is for stores and stuff of the sort, which also feature books with descriptions of them for sale, collectors, etc. 

My content is neither of those. For reviews, I have GoodReads. It’s not the best thing ever, but it’s what I’ve been using because, after the blogspot days were gone, it became the space to specifically share reviews while serving the intended purpose of helping others choose what to read, because it’s easier than following 25 million individuals for book opinions. And I’m not selling the books either, so the second option is also out. 

For the type of content I want to share, the only viable format at this time, is video. Every type of social media platform that encourages text has either dissappeared, become irrelevant or, like tumblr, turned to prefer images and short things rather than long text, while developing its own system which is also incompatible for this particular project. 

I am primarily a writer. I’m not interested in becoming a youtuber. I want to share my content, but I don’t want to enter the youtube landscape, with all the rules and stipulations and monetization conditions and toxic community. And I didn’t want to have to learn skills of audio and video editing to share some stuff (I’m gonna have to anyway, for something else, because I have to teach my classes online now, so I’m working on it, but that’s different because it won’t be shared publicly and the expectations are much lower with quality of video/sound). 

So, basically, I’m kinda stuck. It’s either creating a blog in a platform that isn’t tumblr, like wordpress, but having to rely on social media to spread it because, by itself, it’d be like an island lost at sea. Another option is to turn my content into videos, investing in the software and hardware needed to be a decent youtuber these days (which I don’t have the money for) and do something I don’t feel comfortable doing, because I never wanted to share myself as a person. Or keep sharing a shitty version of the content I’d actuallyt like to on instagram. 

Podcasts are out of the question, by the way, because I need visuals for the stuff I’m talking about. I can’t work with picture books, for example, via podcast, Shulevitz would haunt me.

And, I want to clarify: I’m not actively looking to monetize this content, I just want to share it. It’s not that I’m looking for a place I could make a coin out of it. At least as it stands right now, I’m not meaning for it to be a product by itself, I want it as a companion to my classes and a space to open up more content that my classes can’t have. If it ever came to it having the chance to produce some sort of money, that’d be great as long as it doesn’t compromise my ideas, but it’s not my main goal here.  

In my mind, the remaning primarily text-based platforms that exist with some degree of social-media-relevance are tumblr, reddit and medium, and neither fits my project in the 3 criterias that I named before. 

Right now, I’ll stick to what I’m doing because I have enough at hand with having to figure out how to edit videos for my classes, but the only solution I can think of at the moment is to later on create a wordpress and use it to expand on what the instagram discusses, although I don’t think it’s gonna go anywhere.

And all of this is just about my regular work, I don’t even want to talk about what it means being a writer of fiction these days in which the only platforms to share that are either fic ones or whatever cringe-scape wattpad became. It’s not like we have a hiveworks for writers, as cool as that would be, to give as a space to do as webcomic artists do and start sharing stories online and work from there. And, if there was, I wonder at this point if people would care enough to read them, if they aren’t fics. And I’m not even going to mention the added trouble of not being a native English speaker and having most social medias be primarily English-based.

In any case...yeah. Conflicting times.  

#long post when expanded #about the perils of being primarily a writer and wanting to share content online #luly rambles #please excuse my english I'm in a computer that doesn't check mistakes and y'all know I do my best but sometimes I fail at it

[jswdmb1]

In A Daydream

“The sky is calling,

Calling out my name.

Telling me just to stay,

Stay and don't go away.”

- Freddy Jones Band

I have never been a creative person. Even though I love music, I can’t sing or dance and have never shown any natural talent at the musical instruments I have tried. I have no ability to paint, draw or create art of any kind and a trip to the Art Institute is wasted on me as the only difference between Monet and Manet to me is one letter. I have very little appreciation for literature and don’t read many books unless they are non-fiction. If it doesn’t involve a fact or figures, it is unlikely I will be much help to you, and I have been okay with that. We are often told that our brains work either one way or another and I was satisfied that I had at least a half of one functioning.

But a few years ago, I started to rethink that whole notion that creativity was only for those that didn’t succumb to the life of a left-brained numbers geek. There are plenty of artists and entertainers with a sharp business sense (well, at least a few), so why can’t it turn the other way as well? And why does creativity have to be limited to the traditional arts?  Can’t it be also used in unconventional ways that harness the analytical ability of a buttoned-down mind? Isn’t that the definition of creativity in it of itself?

I decided to put this to the test by even challenging the traditional constraints of what is considered creative, which is usually limited to artists or actors, singers and dancers, novelists and the sort.  But it is an oxymoron to think that way about creativity, and I began to search for other ways to find an outlet.  I started with writing and hosting trivia nights for charity.  They are crude productions, but all of the content is my own and those in attendance generally seem to have a good time (including me).  That modest success gave me some thought that maybe there could be other outlets for me.

I started doing some writing and posting to social media but it didn’t seem right.  I had toyed with starting a blog but I was intimidated.  That was something for people much more creative than me.  But, I thought what will it cost me and I stopped worrying about doing it for any other reason than to create an outlet for what I thought might be brewing inside.  Like my trivia nights, the initial efforts were spotty but I sensed maybe there was something I could build on there.  I kept going throughout that summer and then things came to a halt, which ended up being the best thing that ever happened to me.

That’s when I ended up taking a break from not just writing, but from life, to get myself back on track.  I have referenced this event in the past, but not shared a lot of details about it.  It was about eight months after I quit my job to start my own business and about four months after my dad died after a four-year battle with cancer.  I wasn’t exactly on stable mental ground going into this period, having spent literally decades on various medications and in and out of therapy, so it wouldn’t take much more to push me over the edge.  It was at this point that my wife’s mother’s health took a sharp turn for the worse and the pressure built from there.

It would be more stylish to say that my breakdown occurred in a dramatic event like you see on TV, but it was quite unexciting.  As the summer wore on, I withdrew from my business, upped my already prodigious use of booze and meds to self-medicate, and spent more-and-more time doing a whole lot of nothing.  When I stopped going through even the motions of participating in daily life, those close to me finally stepped in and gave my psychiatrist a call.  Turns out he was on vacation (no joke) but his colleague suggested a trip to the outpatient psychiatric center of Hinsdale Hospital for an assessment.  Within 24 hours of that assessment I found myself in a full-time out-patient program to treat my main problems of severe depression and general anxiety disorder.

I don’t deviate into this story for any other reason than it is directly responsible for what got me back into writing.  One of our big things there was journaling.  More specifically, writing honestly about ourselves and then sharing them to the group.  I wrote some things in those sessions that shocked me, but that shock didn’t really hit home until I read them aloud to people I just met.  I was even more shocked to find out that the world didn’t end because I was finally honest about who I was and my feelings about that.  It was even more surprising to find a lot of people felt the same way and that we could maybe help each other if we talked a bit more about it.

Three days after I was released (I asked for a certificate that said “SANE” but no dice), my mother-in-law died.  I had been writing again on this blog, but I wrote a post quitting it after deciding I couldn’t spend time so frivolously when so much bad was going on around me (the post, “Here’s Where The Story Ends” is still on here if you want to look it up).  But fortunately (for me at least, can’t speak for the rest of you who have to read this stuff), my break was short-lived.  I got back into it and slowly started to develop an embrace of the notion that I might, at times, have something useful to say.  

That finally brings us to today and the point of this particular post.  Tumblr keeps track of the number of posts you have in your profile and after I hit send on the last one, I saw that I had hit post #99.  While I generally think milestone anniversary numbers are a bit silly, it did give me a bit of pause to think about what I would write next for #100.  It made me take a quick look back over the past three years about what I have documented.  Most of it is pretty amateurish, and nothing is spectacular, but there is an occasional good thought that seems to pop out every once in a while.  That’s not really important, though.  What matters to me is that I managed to create 100 of anything.  Good, bad, or indifferent, this production suggests that some creativity exists within me.  That is not something I was sure about before post #1 came along.

What does this all mean?  I don’t know.  Sure, it’s tooting my horn a bit, but really what is wrong with that?  I mean, what is the point of creating anything that you don’t share?  And, just because you share something, it doesn’t mean that everyone has to like it.  I get that a lot of what I say is a bit off the wall and maybe too esoteric for general consumption, but at least it’s genuine.  And every time I finish one of these, I can say in no uncertain terms that I have been honest with myself and I’m comfortable with who I am no matter how imperfect that may be (insert joke here).

And that is how I am going to celebrate this 100th post.  By acknowledging that it may be poorly written and lacking a coherent theme, but understanding it is who I am and how I feel at this moment and I have documented that truthfully and without spin.  And I’ll take credit for that as my true gift of creativity and I’m happy to share it with you.  And I’m grateful that I have been able to do it a hundred times and I’ll be just as grateful for the next one and any more I can do after that.  And I’ll take none of it for granted because life is too short to take anything for granted.  And I’ll reread this at some point, and realize that I have used far too many cliches in sentences that start with “And”.  And that’s okay, because that’s who I am.

Thanks for reading whether this is your first time, 100th time, or maybe your last time.  I hope whatever creativity exists in me has been properly channeled into this vessel and I hope it adds something to your day time you read it.  And if it doesn’t, that’s okay too because that is better than if I hadn’t tried.  100 times to be exact.

Peace, Jim

[deutschedame]

Rant time: So, I shared the following post on Facebook:

“ I'm fucking furious to only find out today that the Dayton shooter murdered his trans brother, NOT his sister. Every single news outlet dead naming and misgendering him for days. Most ppl still don't know about it. Is that how we honor the fucking victims? I'm so fucking angry." --Oregon Trailman 

Flash forward a few hours later (because of different time zones) and I see a comment from my uncle saying I used “poor judgment” when posting. I sent him a PM and it turns out he was mad about the use of swear words. I explained that I found the content more important than the language and told him I’ll be more careful posting next time. My uncle is 78 but super liberal, so he agreed that misgendering is never ok. 

Several hours later, about to go to bed, text from my mom: “I know you’ll be mad at me, but will you PLEASE take down that vulgar post?! There are plenty of other articles instead...do it for me?”

My mom’s “do it for me” rhetoric is nothing new and is a typical strategy of manipulation for her. I am so bugged by this BS. Like, she watches SNL all the time and all kinds of crazy movies or radio shows where people do not hold back with the use of “fuck.” But now she is too fragile for that, apparently? Also the fact that I KNOW she messaged me privately, because she wants to uphold her image on social media a) by not showing that she reads “that kind of stuff” and b) because she doesn’t want her friends/family to know how she treats us when they’re not around. This woman was so emotionally abusive and found a way to make language destructive without swear words, but NOW she is too righteous to stand the fact that her daughter would dare to share a post (again, not even my OWN WORDS!) using “fuck”? What makes me mad is that I gave in and deleted the original post, then just quoted the post inserting [...] where “fucking” was. Next time I will just change the settings about who can see it. Why do I even have Facebook if I can’t post half the things I want to without worrying about what random relatives will think? This is why I feel so much freer and safer on Tumblr, tbh.

tl, dr: When the revolution comes, it will NOT be fucking prim and proper, or family-friendly. Respecting trans lives does not come with a side of “feel good content.” It is their fucking lives and identities that are being ignored. 

[fiftysevenacademics]

As long as I’m sitting here sick and weak on the sofa (not fashionably consumptive, just fucking bronchitis) and catching up on Tumblr, I might as well jot down some things about social media that’ve been rattling in my head for a while now. 

About two and a half years ago I spilled wine on my laptop and it died. I could afford to either try and fix it or buy a new one but the only thing I used it for at that point was Tumblr and a Wordpress blog I was trying halfheartedly to build. I also had a job that left me extremely underemployed, to say the least, and I spent most of my day at work researching topics that interested me and making Tumblr posts about them instead. I figured, I spend way too much time on Tumblr, let’s try going without a laptop and see what happens. 

The plan: Social media detox. Can use at work (to save my sanity) but only use on phone (which I don’t enjoy as much) on my own time. 

After Trump got elected, it’s like my enjoyment of fandoms and Tumblr memes and discourse plummeted. I found myself constantly on Twitter trying to keep up with the latest developments and finding ways to protest, politicians to supplicate, and had even returned to regular Facebook use, after about two years of bare minimum use. 

As time ground on, I just got depressed. Nothing was happening, no protest no actions... Nothing fucking got rid of that monster and I got sick of the nonstop hysterical and self-righteous journalists on my Twitter feed and the constant petitions and fundraisers and calls to action on my Facebook. Everything was just too depressing to even contemplate.

For a little over a year now I’ve been barely on social media at all. At first I thought, Oh, I’ll be one of those enlightened middle class liberals who tries to spend more time with face to face friends. I’ll do this “detox” thing and maybe I’ll be happier. I used Tumblr at work, mostly to post about stuff I was researching, but rarely at home. Maybe I’ll read more!

I didn’t quit social media, but I cut my involvement way down. I go on Tumblr long enough to fill up my queue or to answer a question or message, gave up entirely on Twitter, and disengaged from all but the most innocuous social posts from my Facebook friends. Basically, I’ve mostly used Facebook to keep up with family, real-life friends, and participate in one of the hobby groups I enjoy.

Then I got a job that actually keeps me busy. I have a new work Twitter that depresses the fucking hell out of me with nonstop bad news about the environment, instead of politics. I don’t use Tumblr at work, and by now I thoroughly detest Facebook.

I hate the idiotic memes, the constant guilt pushing, the self-righteousness, the mind-numbing tedium of other people’s everyday lives. Maybe that is awful to say, but I don’t need to see every detail of everyone’s lives, and I lost interest in sharing my own details constantly several years ago.

And you know what? Rather than feeling like I have so much free time now, like I’m liberated, like I’m spending more time involved with people I care about, like all the upper middle class folks write about in prestigious media outlets, I feel disconnected and lonely. I read even less than I did before, when I was reading stuff and posting about it on Tumblr. I need to share what I read!

I’ve got a new job, in a new town, and I have no friends. It’s hard to make friends when you’re an adult, especially if you also kind of hate people and going out. Something is missing in my life and it’s taken me months but you know what it is? TUMBLR. I miss the good old days, 3 or 4 years ago, when I was in over my head on topics I loved and meeting some really great people and having so much fun.

I have been on the Internet since 1994. I made very good friends on a hobby-oriented Usenet group, then went on to make more friends in niche interest Yahoo groups (one of which later morphed into the Facebook group that’s almost the only thing still keeping me on Facebook at this point). I joined Facebook in 2006 but wasn’t really active on it till 2009, and was really into it for a while. Fandom and niche interests finally piqued my curiosity about Tumblr in 2013 and though I never expected the wild ride I’ve been on, it’s been the best experience I’ve had since the old Usenet days.

I need an outlet for my weird interests, hobbies, and quirks. I need a place where I can geek out, preferably with some degree of anonymity, in the company of like-minded nerds. I like the uninhibited, everything plus the kitchen sink environment of Tumblr-- the good AND the bad. 

My plan for 2019 had been to get a new laptop and devote more time to my nerdy Tumblr interests and pay less attention to my stultifying Facebook feed. I was excited. 

And then came Nipplegate.

I don’t know what the future holds for Tumblr, but this is most likely a slow march to the scaffolds for all of our blogs. I hope Pillowfort is a good alternative. In the meantime, I’m going to still go through with my New Year’s resolution.

#stuff you probably dont want to know but I'm telling you anyway

[lesdeuxfousamoureux]

An explanation and apology for my inactivity

Hello all,

Having come back to this blog after a long hiatus, I feel the need to explain some things.

So, I will sometimes take little breaks when my muse quits on me, of course, but usually I’ll announce it first.

In this case it was a little different.

First I just slowed down and only really RPed with one user, who at the time I was dating.

Two weeks ago or so, I found out they were having an emotional affair, and I confronted them. They sent me a blatantly manipulative message, and then dumped me. After that I re-evaluated our entire relationship and realized how abusive it was. It started with love bombing. Building me up and making me feel like I was her whole world. And then she just changed. I couldn’t talk to her about anything she did wrong or she’d guilt trip me, I couldn’t even talk to her about my problems because she said, verbatim, “my depression makes me too selfish” to help. You get the picture, I’m sure.

What does my relationship have to do with this RP blog of mine, you may ask?

Everything.

See, back in the love-bombing, lovey-dovey phase of our relationship she told me how ignored she felt in her RPs on Twitter, where she roleplayed Stanley (which is actually how we met... she’d call me her Lefou and I’d call her my Stanley, only, of course, it turns out I had a Gaston. Or maybe a Hans.) so I invited her to Tumblr, to RP with me to lift her spirits.

Only... well.

It didn’t go well.

Cause every time I RPed with someone else, ESPECIALLY a Stanley, she’d get upset/jealous and tell me she was an awful writer and I should RP with someone better- you know, the kind of guilt tripping stuff where I was supposed to tell her she was the best writer in the world and all that. So, I did. And I felt so bad and guilty with RPing, like I was hurting her if I did threads with anyone else, that I ended up dropping almost all my threads. I don’t think it was a conscious thing really, I did it gradually- first the one writer who made her the most jealous, who was another Stanley, and then other romantic threads, and then kind of everything. But I felt so bad, because I knew there were a lot of people I was disappointing by not continuing threads. So, eventually I stopped coming here at all, and told my now-ex that I just had really bad writers block. Even though she not so subtle-y hinted more than once that she missed our threads and RPs. (Funnily enough, her favorite time to RP or talk about Stanfou, it seemed like, was when I wanted to talk about RL stuff. It hurt my feelings, a lot.)

But now, here I am, things are over between us- she blocked me on almost all social media platforms, I think to make sure I couldn’t confront her?- and I’m coming back and realizing how much I let her take from me, how I gave her really ALL of myself and she couldn’t be bothered to do anything in return. So one thing I’m doing as a small step to moving on is taking this blog back. I deleted every interaction I had with her on this blog, and I am now plunging right back into RP.

If you used to RP with me, please feel free to message- I would love to start a thread again.

Thanks so much for welcoming me back here. I feel so much better having writing/RP as an outlet again, a way to channel my emotions that doesn’t involve a razor. It feels nice.

Thanks, and sorry again. Looking forward to starting to RP again!

Love,

Lexi

#ooc

[bloominginprocess]

Hey I was just wondering if you could talk a bit about being broom closeted - is it from everyone? Just fam? I’m wondering how to navigate who I tell about my path and journey and would love some anecdotal advice if you’ve got any to share!!

Hello! I hope you’re doing well today! 💞I definitely think it’s a good idea to find someone you feel comfortable sharing your path with. It has been very beneficial to me and over time I’ve felt comfortable sharing it with more people. The first person I ever told was my boyfriend, now my husband. The feeling for me came out of no where. There was no one telling me “hey! You should like this thing!” I just randomly became curious of it. And I shared that with him and he was completely supportive. He is also a witch! Through me becoming interested he also shared that he used to dabble in it when he was younger. So we even practice together sometimes.

Over time, I’ve noticed which people I can share it with by the energy I get from them. There are obviously some people I can tell who won’t be as receptive to it. My older sister for example shares a lot of witchy things online or has a lot of witchy energy, so I felt comfortable telling her because I figured she was as well. A lot of the friends I make also have witchy/spiritual vibes. Whenever I make a new friend and I’m not sure what their opinions are on it, I normally tell them as a heads up that this is something I’m interested in because in my eyes, friends are your chosen family. I would rather be able to be completely open and honest with them. If they practice a different religion or don’t agree with what I believe, I am in favor of coexisting and being friends. That’s totally cool! But I will not have someone downtalking my chosen path, and that is why I go ahead and address it. I like to respect the differences between me and my friends as long as they respect me too. However, most of my friends seem to also be a little spiritual in their own unique way even if they don’t call themselves witches so it’s not really an issue.

As far as family goes, I have in a way, told my dad and stepmom. They were over one day and I was showing them my rocks and sage and other things. So I just showed them stuff I have. My husband gave my dad a rose petal for good luck and he seemed to really appreciate it. This goes along with the energy you get from people. I didn’t tell my dad right away but I knew that I could show him one day in some way because of a philosophical conversation we had about God and religion one day. I knew he’d still love me and not think I was going to hell or something. There are some people in my family who I know would immediately think they need to save my soul, so there’s no reason for me to cause that trouble in their mind. I love them and I know their concern would come from love as well (and their personal religion and what they believe is right). I know it’d be with good intentions so I just don’t see the need for upsetting anyone or causing anxiety. I’m personally happy with the people I have shared my path with overtime. I’m also very open on my personal social media that my family isn’t really on like Snapchat, tumblr, Instagram. That gives me a platform I can just be me without worrying about who’s going to see, and I feel I have enough friends and family (my husband, dad, stepmom, sister, aunt, and cousin) who know about this side of me that I’m content! I don’t feel the need to tell every single person in my family and I don’t feel like I’m hiding. I have my own outlet for it in my social life physically, and on the internet. I celebrate with friends, me and my husband talk about it all of the time, and I just feel overall accepted! I don’t feel I need that side of me to be accepted by everyone to feel justified or valid so I am okay! And that’s not just a half hearted okay! I truly mean it! I hope this helps! 💓🌻

(As a side note, you don’t have to tell everyone all at once if you do choose to mention it! I did it slowly overtime as it came up! And I have built a really good group of friends, family, and a really big area of my life that I can just be me! Having a really strong support group goes a long way even if it’s only a few people or 20 or 50!!!)

#broom closet

[trey-ff]

THREE.

SONYA

After two days spent in the hospital, Hassan and I were finally allowed to be discharged. I hadn’t been there for that long, but I was elated to be going home. Though anxiety and a little apprehensiveness rested in the pit of my stomach at what lied ahead, I couldn’t wait for my life with my son to officially begin.

“Where’d you get these flowers? Please, don’t tell me it was you-know-who.” Ebony frowned, pointing to the vase of roses that Hassan had gotten for me.

“If you’re referring to Carter, hell no. Hassan, the man who helped deliver the baby, bought them for me. He stopped by yesterday to check on us.” I informed her, leaving out the fact that Carter had stopped by, too. She hated him and I didn’t need her going on a tangent about it. Besides, I still hadn’t come to grips with the progression of our talk myself.

“This Hassan seems like a real gentleman.” she smirked as I simply chuckled.

“He is,” I admitted while tossing my tresses behind my shoulder, “I wasn’t even expecting him to come see me, let alone, bring me flowers. He even sat and talked to me for awhile, too.”

“That was really nice of him.” she smiled, getting up from the chair with Hassan nestled in her arms. While I finished getting myself together, she entertained her nephew. Soon, I was dressed in black leggings and a gray Champion sweatshirt, ready to go.

“Can’t wait to get home.” I sang, trailing back towards the bed where me and Hassan’s things were halfway packed.

“Just be sure that you have everything.” she mumbled while bundling Hassan into the carseat that I had her retrieve from my house before she came. Nodding, I stuffed my worn clothes inside of the duffle-bag before zipping it up. Then, I glanced around the brightly lit hospital-room.

“I think that’s everything,” I sighed, unplugging my charger from the outlet beside the bed before plopping down in the nearby chair, “I just need to put on my sneakers and then, we can go.”

“I hope you know you’re gonna’ have to be rolled out of here in a wheelchair. So, we still need to wait for them.”

“Why? It’s not like I can’t walk. I just got dressed by my damn self.” I grumbled, adjusting the tongue to my black Huaraches before tying the laces. She chuckled.

“It’s discharge policy.” she shrugged, tugging the baby-blue hat further down Hassan’s head. Thankfully, he was deep asleep and was not being much of a hassle. It seemed that every time he was awake, he was in need of a feeding and I was still adjusting to that.

Soon, the nurse entered my hospital-room with a wheelchair and my copy of the birth-certificate. While Ebony carried Hassan, the nurse assisted me into the chair and followed her lead until we approached Ebony’s truck. Once everyone was settled comfortably and securely inside, we headed in the direction of my house.

–

“Ah, I’m so happy to be home.” I cheesed as we pulled onto my street. In response, Ebony only chuckled and shook her head. As we approached my house, I noticed Hassan’s car still parked outside and that reminded me to tell him that I had been discharged from the hospital.

And so, I pulled out my iPhone and shot him a text, along with an apology for making him wait two whole days for it. I imagined it must have been tough for him to get around without it.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s get you two in the house.” my sister sang after parking alongside the curb. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I opened my door and due to the height of the truck, I had to literally leap down, causing Ebony to snicker and mutter short-ass beneath her breath.

“Oh, shut up. You ain’t got no more than two inches on me.” I chuckled, feeling the vibration of my phone in my pocket. It was a text from Hassan, informing me that he would be stopping by sometime later that day to scoop his keys. Texting back a simple okay, I proceeded to open the backseat-door to get my son.

“I’ll get your stuff. You just worry about him.” Ebony said as I nodded and grabbed the handle to his car-seat. After being sure that the doors to her truck were locked, we hiked up to my burgundy front-door, where Ebony fished my obnoxiously decorated keys out of my purse, forcing me to smirk at her agitated expression.

“Ugh, I can’t stand all these stupid-ass keychains you got on here.” she complained as she always did whenever she saw my keys.

I had a rhinestone S for obvious reasons, a Minion keychain that my niece gave me, a lime-green furry ball keychain that I bought from Forever 21, a flashlight in case I needed to see, an ice-cream cone because who doesn’t like ice-cream, a million store membership cards to stores I barely ever shopped at, a corkscrew for the wine I never drank, and a keychain from that trip to Puerto Rico that I didn’t go on, amongst many other silly little trinkets that I randomly hooked on there.

“Hey, at least I could never say I lost them.” I laughed as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. With no expectations of seeing anything out-of-the-norm, I was startled to the point of almost dropping my baby when my family and friends jumped out of hiding and shouted SURPRISE!

“Oh my goodness! You guys fuckin’ scared me.” I breathed, touching my chest as the group of maybe ten or so people bursted into laughter. Upon first glance, I spotted my mother, my aunts, Aaron, my niece and nephew, and my best-friends, Deidra, Ashley, Sasha, and Noah, along with a few other familiar faces.

“Aye, no more potty-mouth. You’re a mother now.” Deidra, my girlfriend from my old job at the casino, joked as she wagged her finger at me. Chuckling, I stepped further into the house and made my rounds. Of course, everyone who hadn’t seen my son yet paid me two seconds of attention before insisting that I showed them the baby. Not that I cared, I was just happy to be around so many loved ones.

–

After catching up with everyone, my mother insisted that I eat. For my homecoming and the arrival of Hassan, my mother and aunts cooked an array of my favorites for the get-together that my friends had planned for me in lieu of a baby-shower.

“This is so good.” I admitted, dipping another chip into the sriracha and ranch dip that my Aunt Gina made. Sasha pursed her lips up at me.

“You’re just greedy,” she giggled while scrolling through her never-ending pictures of Hassan, “so, which one should I post? This one… or this one?”

While the other guests, specifically my relatives, were in the living-room with Hassan, I was sitting in the kitchen with my friends. Due to my isolated and neglectful mood during my pregnancy, I could definitely say that I hadn’t been the best best-friend to them. But, they knew that the battles in which I was facing at the time were tough. So, instead of dwelling on that, we broke away from the rest and got lost in our usual quibbles.

“Don’t be plastering my baby all over Instagram now,” I told Sasha, who was infamous for documenting every moment of her life, significant or otherwise, on social-media, “I haven’t even made a post about him yet.”

Sasha was what I considered the it-girl of our group. All of the latest trends, hot-spots, and gossip, she was up on it. Everywhere we went, at least five people knew who she was; she was quite popular around Vegas. If you’d let her tell it, though, none of them were really friends. She simply knew how to network for her net-worth.

“And, you probably never will, Sonny. Only thing yo’ ass be on is Tumblr anyway.” she clowned, somehow making my other friends laugh.

“Whatever. Tumblr is better than all that shit you guys be on. Yes, that includes Twitter and Instagram. And, don’t even get me started on Facebook.” I chuckled, taking a sip of my Fiji water.

“Now, we can all agree that nobody, but old-ass people with uninstalled updates on their computers and shit use Facebook. Hell, they just now finding out about that blue and black, gold and white dress debate. I promise you, my aunties were arguing up and down my wall about that shit last week like it ain’t happen last year. They was just begging to get blocked.” Ashley ranted, forcing me into a fit of giggles.

Now, Ashley, I had met at my bartending job and she always had me dying. She was over-the-top, petty, and had no filter or restraint of any kind. You always needed one brash friend like that, though.

“Hey, I use Facebook.” Noah said defensively. Noah was the guy-friend within our circle of friendship, which ultimately deemed him lucky if he was fucking all of us, or gay if he wasn’t. However, despite what outsiders, specifically men, had to say about it, he always stayed true. He was mature, educated, and probably best-labeled as the voice of reason and the fix-it guy. He was like the big brother that we always wanted.

“And, you see why you don’t be invited to the group-chats now, right?” Ashley asked, sending a fake-smile his way.

“Aw, boo-hoo, I’m so upset that I’m never invited to the men-ain’t-shit group-chats. That’s all ya’ll ever talk about anyway.” he chortled before drinking some of his Rolling Rock.

“‘Cause they ain’t!” we all exclaimed in unison before bursting into laughter. Hell, it was the truth. All us girls had dealt with at least one trifling-ass dude in our pasts so, if we related or connected on anything, it was definitely that.

“Now, that we on that subject, I’m thinking about putting Jaxon on child-support. I said I wouldn’t, but he’s just not stepping up to the plate like he should be with Xavier.” Deidra complained, referring to her three-year old son.

Deidra was the oldest of us all, sitting fine at thirty-two. Due to that, I felt that she often took the place as the mother in our group. She, like Noah, was protective, worrisome, and good for letting us hear it when we needed it.

“I say you do it. I mean, why not? What is this trend with men making babies that they refuse to care for?” Sasha muttered, earning an agreeing head-nod from me.

“I just… I know he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the money. And, what good would he be to Xavier locked up? He doesn’t have a job right now and I’m sympathetic.”

“Take off the sym and keep the pathetic ‘cause that’s what you are right now, girl. What good would he be locked up,” Ashley mocked before chuckling, “hell, what good is he now?”

“Ash, you’re not a mother and I’m almost virtually certain that you’re incapable of loving anyone, but yourself so, you wouldn’t really know that feeling either,” Noah jabbed, making her roll her eyes, “no matter how triflin’ the nigga is, that’s not easy to just do, especially knowing the consequences in store if he didn’t pay up. Like, Sonny, do you plan to put Carter on child-support?”

His question instantly reminded me of the envelope of money that Carter had given me days prior. It was tucked inside of my purse and I hadn’t mentioned it to anyone since I was still kind of murky on the offer myself.

“Um… I hadn’t even given it a thought. I probably wouldn’t do it, though. I just… don’t feel the need to.” I shrugged. Beyond their knowledge, Carter had already insisted that he would be helping me out financially, whether I wanted him to, or not. So, I didn’t have the push to put him on child-support.

“Now, you the pathetic one for real. Deidra, I understand her sensitive-ass not wanting to because he low on paper, but Carter is not. He’s paid and you need to reap the benefits. Not be a gold-digger, or a feigning baby-mama, but a woman who’s thinking in the best interest of her son. Have you even seen or heard from him since the birth?” she asked, switching gears a little. Crunching down on my chips, I thought for a moment before slowly nodding my head.

“He stopped by the day after I gave birth.” I said, keeping it short and sweet, though, I knew that they would continue to prod me for more details.

“And? How’d that go?” Sasha inquired.

“It just went,” I chuckled, shrugging as she kissed her teeth, “I mean, he ain’t have shit interesting to say. He basically told me that he can’t be the man that I want him to be right now. He hopes that later on, if I oblige him, he can be that man and we can work things out.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re actually considering that?” Noah commented, furrowing his eyebrows at me. Noah hated Carter, specifically for how he’d treated me after I had revealed my pregnancy to him, which were reasonable grounds.

“Nah, I ain’t paying him no mind. I mean, if he wants to be around for Hassan, fine. I’ll need to learn to accept that, but for me? Nope. I ain’t interested in any men right now. The only boy that my world revolves around is Hassan. Period.”

HASSAN

“Hassan, these scallops are burnt.” Chef Granquist barked snidely, pointing towards the dish of scallops and herbed brown butter that I had cooked. This harsh and rather loud confession made the heads of my fellow classmates turn in our direction.

“I couldn’t keep them from stickin’ to the pan.” I confessed, refraining from showing any attitude, though, there was none at all. Usually, I received the utmost amount of praise from Chef Granquist; I was definitely one of his favorites. However, that didn’t exempt me from his criticism and discipline.

“Maybe if you were paying attention, you wouldn’t have made this careless and stupid mistake. Take note,” he grumbled, now speaking to the class and making an example out of my error, “the pan should be heated to the point where a single drop of water would bounce around the pan. Then, add the three tablespoons of oil and make sure the scallops aren’t touching one another. And, judging by the pan that you decided to use, I could tell that they were touching. I said to use the 14-inch saute pan and you’re using a 10-inch? Just doing your own thing today, huh?”

“No, Sir. I… I forgot.” I grumbled, not really knowing what else to say, but also knowing that nothing would discontinue his ongoing opprobrium.

“You forgot? Do you think a customer would accept that excuse, or any excuse for that matter, from a cook? I forgot? I expect better from you, Hassan,” he admitted before walking away from me and to Donovan, a fellow cook, who had prepared the same dish, “now, these are much better. You see, Hassan, how Donovan listened to my instructions? If you had done the same…”

I zoned out as he praised Donovan and downed me in the same breath. It wasn’t that I didn’t take heed of his lessons because I did. Without this class and without his referral, I wouldn’t have landed a job at Top of the World. That was my dream job until I was able to own a restaurant myself. I knew that it would take a lot of determination and discipline, along with the material that was being taught in my classes. And normally, I was ahead of the game, but there was some shit going on between me and Whitney that was clouding my focus and better judgement.

A part of me considered this to be somewhat more important than our troubles, but even still, having her upset with me weighed on my mind. Whenever Whitney and I weren’t on common grounds, it had the ability to fuck my whole day up, as it should, considering I couldn’t imagine life without her.

About three years ago, I had moved from Houston to Vegas with my best-friend, Dave. The decision was spontaneous; we just wanted something different from the usual. We were bachelors and wanted life to be like a never-ending party, which Vegas turned out to be. Well, until I met Whitney.

Our come-about wasn’t love at first sight, or anything out a romance flick. It was actually quite the opposite. I met her at a party two years ago, fucked on the first night, and didn’t bother leaving any contact info when I dipped right after. Then, we saw each other at another party, fucked again, but this time, we exchanged numbers. We had a friends-with-benefits ordeal for awhile before feelings inevitably became entangled on both ends. Instead of pushing them away, we just went with it to see if we could maintain all that came with a relationship. And, being that a year and four months of monogamy had passed us by, it was clear to me that we had something worth fighting for. Or, so I thought.

“Hassan!” Chef Granquist shouted, indicating that during that brief gap in my reality, he had been talking to me. Damn, I just couldn’t quit fucking up.

“I’m sorr-”

“Am I boring you? No, honestly.”

“No, I’m just… I’on know. I apologize and I assure you, I’m here wit’ you for the remainder of the class.” I said, motioning a finger between his eyes and mine. He chuckled.

“Oh, don’t assure me anything because you aren’t doing me a favor by being here with me. You’re doing yourself one. But, if I ever do bore you, please, there’s the exit. Be my guest.”

Not bothering to add anything to the discussion, I nodded my head and waited for him to continue his instructing. The last thing that I wanted to do was jeopardize this class by spacing out and shit so, as promised, I made sure to stay attentive for the rest of the class.

–

“Yo, where you at, nigga?” I griped, speaking to Dave. Since my car was wrecked and my keys were still in Sonya’s possession, I was relying on his ass to take me and pick me up from school and work. Thing is, he wasn’t always reliable.

As stated, Dave was my best-friend and had been since we were eight years old. Hell, with our nineteen-year friendship, we considered one another practically kin. We bonded, bickered, and defended one another like brothers. Since we grew up right next door to one another, we were brought up together and essentially, came from the same cloth. Our parents heavily believed that it took a village to raise a child and that was just the method that they used to mold two bad-ass little boys into the grown-ass men that we were today.

“I’m like, ten seconds away, Hassan. You better be lucky I’m even comin’ to get ya’ no-car havin’ ass. You could be callin’ a yellow-cab or some shit everyday.” he grumbled irritably.

“Just shut the fuck up and get here. You ain’t reliable worth shit. Hell, a yellow-cab probably would be more reliable than you.” I rumbled. He kissed his teeth.

“Man, you too disrespectful. But, what else is new, right,” he muttered before blowing the horn, “I’m outside. C’mon.”

“And, what was the point in blowin’ the horn if we on the phone? You always been a dumb-ass.” I snickered, hanging up before he could respond. Then, I got up from the bench and walked outside the school with my duffle-bag and backpack in tow. Jogging down the cement steps, I noticed his black Audi parked fixedly in a parking-space. As I approached the car, he was typing away on his phone, but looked up once he saw me and pressed a button to unlock the doors.

“Wassup, Chef Home-Boyardee?” he snickered, using the same joke he always did as soon as I jumped inside his car. Kissing my teeth, I broke into laughter at his goofy-ass before shoving him aside.

“If I never told you before, I’m tellin’ you now. You get on my nerves.” I chuckled, accepting his hand for a dap before he shrugged and took the car out of park.

“Hey, that’s what I do,” he smiled before peeling out of the parking-lot, “so, how was class? It was cool?”

“Eh, it was aight, I guess. I was fuckin’ up more than usual, though, and Chef Granquist ain’t have no issues callin’ me out on it.” I snickered, shaking my head.

At first, being that my passion elicited sensitivity when it came to criticism, constructive or otherwise, I would get mad and react poorly whenever he did that. As time went on, I gradually learned to appreciate it and used his words to fuel my ambition. To succeed in culinary school, I learned real fast within my first year that you needed determination, perseverance, and a thick layer of skin.

“Well… why was you fuckin’ up in the first place?” Dave asked as we pulled up at a red light. I shrugged.

“I’on know, man. I’m just… tired. Between work and school, I just been real stressed out. I’m tryin’a balance it out, but everything pilin’ down on a nigga right now. Then, there’s Whitney. She feels that I haven’t been spendin’ enough time wit’ her, which is kinda true. But, it’s not that I’on want to, I’ve just been busy.”

The night before, I was unexpectedly called into work while spending time with Whitney. Though the decision wasn’t an easy one to make, I ultimately sided with my job and she was upset about that. I could be the first to admit that I placed my passion above my personal life in most instances. But, I really wanted this dream of mine to come to fruition so, sacrifices had to be made along the way. She knew that from jump-street.

“Man, tell Whitney to go ‘head somewhere and find a hobby,” he grumbled, forcing a chuckle from me, “that broad too dependent for me, man.”

Dave couldn’t stand Whitney and the feeling was mutual on her end, too. He felt that she was too whiny and demanding, while she felt that he was a bad influence on me. Dave wasn’t the relationship-type; it would have to take the perfect woman for him to commit. But until he met that woman, strip-clubs had his heart. I couldn’t knock him for that; I used to be the same way before I settled down with Whitney.

“C’mon, bruh. That’s my girl. She’s definitely a li’l needy, but I love her, man. I wanna give her all the things she needs and wants, you know?” I admitted as he frowned in disgust.

“Nah, I don’t know. I could not imagine bein’ whipped like that, especially for a broad like that. But, more power to you ‘cause you gon’ need a whole lot of it when it comes to her annoyin’-ass.”

“You disrespectful as hell, D. Nah, you really are.” I mumbled, pulling out my vibrating iPhone as his laughter filled the car. The number was unknown, but from the context of the text-message, I knew exactly who it was.

“Yo, remember how I told you about Sonya, the girl whose baby I delivered,” I asked, watching as he glanced over at me and nodded his head, “she just got discharged from the hospital so, let’s head over to her crib. I gotta get my car.”

“Oh, yeah. We definitely need to make that detour ‘cause you been cuttin’ all into my schedule.” he grumbled, forcing me to kiss my teeth at his lying-ass.

“What schedule? You don’t do shit. From what I see, Ruiz pretty much let yo’ ass do whatever you want.” I retorted, referring to his boss. Dave worked at this tattoo-parlor, Devil in the Detail, and the nigga was barely ever there. Being that him and the owner were tight, he could get away with shit like that and still get his paper at the end of the week.

Since working there, which had been about a year and some change, he had probably only done like, three tattoos that I know of. He didn’t even go to school for the shit, but his artistic mindset and ability to stencil out ideas was only half the battle. All they had to do was train him and he was set to go.

In almost every situation that he was encountered with, Dave never really had to do much. Shit just came naturally for him. If he didn’t want to be bothered with some shit, he got someone else to do it, or ignored it until the problem was no more. I never wanted to take anything away from my brother, but it always made me question how he would handle real-life problems that actually required his effort.

“You don’t know what I do,” he chuckled as if he knew something that I didn’t, “and, I’on gotta’ tell you.”

“I never said I wanted to know.”

“You asked what schedule so, evidently–”

“Ah, ain’t nobody finna’ go back and forth wit’ yo’ simple-ass. Just shut that shit up and go to 54 Highland Road in Summerlin so, I can get my shit and you can go ‘bout your schedule.” I said my last word through hand-motioned quotation-marks. He grilled me before silently focusing on the road ahead.

“You know, you is really a throne in my side.” he sighed, mocking his mother, who always used that line when we were getting on her nerves. We both bursted into obnoxious laughter as we started reflecting on times when we were truly a throne in her side.

–

“Yo, look at ya’ car, Hassan. How on Earth did you do that shit?” Dave chortled, pointing towards the dent in my BMW. Shaking my head, I kissed my teeth as I stared at the damage myself. Being that I had gotten sidetracked with delivering the baby, I didn’t really remember, or even so much care for the damage that had been done to my car but, it was turning out to be way worse than I anticipated.

“Some dumb-ass kid rear-ended me, probably not payin’ attention. It’s like every single time I turn around, some bullshit is happenin’ wit’ this car.” I said while mentally calculating the damage and the money that would need to be forked out in order to repair it.

No matter how hard I tried, there were always constant setbacks and hurdles interfering with me chasing my goals. I knew things wouldn’t be easy, but goddamn. Could a nigga catch a break, ever?

“Man, it ain’t too bad. I mean, it’s dented up, but I can call up my boy, Roscoe, and have him fix it for the low. He don’t be chargin’ too much for shit like that.” he muttered as he parked alongside Sonya’s house.

“Yeah, I suppose,” I grumbled while pinching my chin-hair between my fingertips, “are you comin’ in wit’ me? I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Aight.” he rumbled, shutting the engine and jumping out of his car. Together, we hiked towards Sonya’s front-door, where I knocked and patiently awaited her arrival. The door opened, but Sonya wasn’t the one who answered it. Rather, it was an older, nearly identical version of her.

“Hello, and who are you two gentlemen?” she inquired while looking between the two of us with a welcoming smile. Extending my burly hand, I shook hers, which encouraged Dave to do likewise.

“Well, I’m Hassan and this here is my boy, Dave. I’m a friend of Sonya’s. Would she happen to be here?”

“Um, yes. Come in. I’ll go get her.” she simpered, widening the door for us. Due to the lively decorations and the sound of many voices coming from the living-room area, I assumed that they had thrown her a little get-together.

Peering to my right, I noticed the vase of flowers that I had gotten for her seated on a cherry-wood end-table and grinned. Just then, she entered the main-entrance where we stood and her face lit up with genuine excitement. Beyond our first encounter, where she was cranky and rude due to her pregnancy, I could tell that Sonya was outgoing and a joy to be around. She just had this warm, inviting, and down-to-earth aura that I fucked with heavily.

“Hey, Hassan, how have you been?” she simpered, feeling comfortable enough to embrace me in a hug.

“Good, you?” I smiled, subconsciously taking in her scent before allowing her to pull away.

“Pretty good, pretty good,” she assured before turning her focus to Dave with the same smile, “and, you are?”

“Dave, his friend. You must be Sonya. I’ve heard a lot.” he smiled, extending his hand for a shake that she gladly accepted. I raised an eyebrow; it was always weird for me to see him being polite for a change.

“Good things, I hope.” she giggled, looking towards me.

“Of course. I ain’t got nothin’ negative to say about you.” I chuckled as they both did likewise.

“Oh, here,” she murmured while taking my keys out of her pocket, “if you want, I know a mechanic who can fix that up for you. He’s actually here right now. I could probably get him to do it for a super low price, being that you know me. Maybe even for nothing at all.”

“Um, nah–”

“That’s wassup. He’ll do that.” Dave intervened and I looked at him like he had two heads. Wasn’t he just telling me that he had someone who could handle the damages for me?

“Perfect. Want to meet him and get things arranged?” she offered, aiming her thumbs towards the back of her home. Between them, the decision had already been made with no room for my input so, I simply nodded my head. She motioned for us to follow her lead.

“Why?” I asked, referring to the stunt that he had just pulled.

“‘Cause her boy probably won’t you charge you anything for it.” he grumbled, not convincing me in the least bit. Instead of questioning him any further–not that I had any time to–I stopped behind her in the familiar living-room.

“Guys, this is Hassan, the man who delivered Hassan.” she introduced while pointing at me. As I waved and earned their astonished expressions, I knew that Dave was looking at me crazy. I hadn’t told him that she named the baby after me.

“Ah, that’s how you gon’ introduce me? Just throw me on the spot?” I snickered, remaining humble about the ordeal. I had already received the utmost praise from friends, family, and the practitioners who made a career off of what I did with no experience, but didn’t see the hype around it. I mean, I felt that I had to do what I had to do; I would have liked to believe that anyone in my position would have done the same.

“You didn’t tell me this was the man who delivered the baby,” the woman, who I had learned to be Sonya’s mother smiled, “I thank you so much for being there for my daughter. I’m Nicole, by the way.”

“And, I’m Ebony. Her sister.” another woman smiled, introducing herself to both Dave and I.

“Nice to meet you both,” I grinned, “and, it was really no problem, Nicole. I’m just glad that they’re both happy and healthy.”

By chance, I happened to glance at Sonya and noticed her already staring at me with a smile painted on her face. I smiled back before subconsciously licking my lips.

For a few minutes, we talked with her people in the living-room and I sat with the baby for a little before she asked that we follow her into the kitchen. There, four other people were seated at the island, chilling. I learned through her introductions that they happened to be her best-friends. We sat around the table, drinking and getting acquainted with one another. Just like I detected in Sonya, their vibes were genuine and laid-back.

“So, Noah,” Sonya started, catching his attention, “I need you to do me a favor. Well, more so Hassan, but I’m asking you.”

“Which one?” he pondered, truly confused. Whenever Hassan was mentioned, no one knew exactly which one was the topic of discussion. Sonya laughed and pointed to where I was seated beside her.

“That BMW outside is his and it’s a little wrecked. So, would you mind fixing it up for him, for free?”

“I’m willin’ to pay for it if you need me to, though,” I intervened, not wanting to impose, “just take a look at it and let me know the damage.”

“Nah, it’s cool. After what you did for Sonya, this one’s on the house, my friend. That, and I need a project.” he snickered, fanning his hand as if it were no big deal. While I did have the money to tend to the damages, Lord knows I didn’t want to waste a dime on it. So, I was thankful that he came through.

“Good lookin’ out, man. I appreciate that.” I chuckled before we clinked our beers together.

“See? I told you.” Sonya simpered, nudging my arm. Saying nothing to that, I simply snickered and belted down what was remaining of my alcohol.

–

For about an hour and a half, we continued to talk and whatnot until at some point, Sonya disappeared with her son. Eventually, her other guests began leaving one by one until only Dave, Noah, and I remained. And, if it hadn’t been for Dedrick and Brooke, who asked me to play with them after spotting me outside taking a heated phone-call with Whitney, we would have been gone. It didn’t bother me, though, because I needed the distraction from her bullshit and kids always did the trick.

“Aight, aight, Brooke won that round,” I snickered while catching up to them near sliding glass-door, “how in the world are you so fast?”

“I dunno, I just am.” she giggled cutely while I wiped my forehead with my hand. I couldn’t believe that these two kids were running me ragged like this. It always amazed me how much energy children possessed.

“I’m fast, too. Right, Hassan?” Dedrick asked.

“You outran me, didn’t you? The both of ya’ll future track-stars.” I snickered, pulling my phone out of my pocket to see that it was nearing six-thirty. It was still somewhat light out, but it was drawing time for me to go home and get up on my studying.

“Are you Auntie Sonya’s boyfriend?” Brooke blurted at a random, stealing my attention from my phone. Dedrick looked up at me with the same goofy smile and inquiring eyes as his sister; I could tell that they were waiting to ask, despite their timing being off as hell.

“Uh, no. We’re just friends.”

“Oh, I thought you were her new boyfriend because Uncle Carter isn’t anymore.” she murmured, making me furrow my brow. Uncle Carter? Now, there was finally a name to the nigga that bailed on his girl and newborn baby.

“Uncle Carter, huh? So, that’s Hassan’s father?” I snooped, trying to get some insight on this guy. It felt wrong of me to be using them for information, but hell, I was curious about this man and Sonya had failed to mention anything to me. Aside from the minimal that she shared with me at the hospital, I knew nothing and for some reason, I wanted to know more.

“Yup, but we haven’t seen him in a long time. Auntie Sonya said he isn’t coming around anymore. She said he has a new job and it keeps him busy, like our Daddy.” Dedrick sighed as he picked up the Spalding basketball and bounced it against the patio cement.

“I heard Mommy and Auntie talking once and she was crying about it,” Brooke whispered to both me and her brother, “it was really sad.”

My meddling didn’t really answer any questions for me; I was still in the dark on why they weren’t together anymore and even more perplexed on why I cared so much. However, despite Sonya’s words, I felt that it was more complex than him just abandoning her and their son for no apparent reason. There had to be more to the story and Dedrick’s new job claim shone some light on it.

“I bet it was,” I sighed, feeling confusingly yet genuinely upset that Sonya was going through this shit, “c’mon, let’s go inside. I gotta go home soon.”

Luckily, the twins obliged on this attempt, as earlier I had tried to get them to go inside and instead, was tricked by pleads to continue playing.

Opening the sliding glass-door, I motioned for them to walk through as I followed behind.

“Did they tire you out?” Ebony chuckled as I closed the door behind me and took in the scene before me.

Dave was seated next to Ebony at the island, babysitting what appeared to be his third beer. Knowing that he and Ebony remained in that same spot at the table talking and shit after everyone had left was crazy. Not in a bad way, it was just that Dave could definitely be the introverted type and to see him actually socializing with someone was new.

“Yeah, they sure as hell gotta lotta energy in ‘em, too.” I snickered, leaning against the island as they waved at their mother before scurrying in search of their father.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” she giggled, shaking her head in the direction that they went.

“So, how old are they?” Dave pondered, redirecting her attention back to him.

“Just turned five in early September. It seems like it was just yesterday when I had them.” she chuckled, earning a light smile from Dave. Before either of us could add anything to the discussion, his phone notified him of a text-message.

“It’s Ruiz,” he grumbled, speaking to me before glancing down at the text-message again, “he needs me down at the shop ASAP.”

“Hm, sounds urgent. Guess that means you’re leaving now?” Ebony mumbled, almost sounding a little disappointed in the fact that he had to go. I furrowed my eyebrows at her tone and expression while he only chuckled smoothly and stood up from the island.

“Yeah, when work calls, I gotta answer. But, I’a be sure to see you around.” he smirked, eliciting a smile from her. Shaking my head, I redirected my gaze elsewhere. Dave was always doing some shit.

I didn’t understand why he was entertaining this woman, knowing that she was married. Furthermore, why was she entertaining him? Either way, I ruled it none of my business. Dave was going to do what he wanted to do, regardless of the matter so, it made no sense for me to get involved.

“Wait, where’s Sonya?” I pondered, wanting to at least say goodbye before I left. Knitting her neatly stenciled eyebrows together, Ebony tilted her head to the side.

“If she’s not in the living-room, then she’s probably in the nursery with Hassan.” she replied as I nodded and hiked in the direction of her pointed finger. Heading up the staircase, I passed the bathroom and stopped at the second room ahead, seeing her sitting in a rocking-chair with Hassan nestled in her arms.

While well out of her sight, I watched her as she stared lovingly at her newborn son. Breaking into a smile while she played with his little hand, she cooed and spoke to him in a hushed tone, while rhythmically rocking back and forth in the rocking-chair.

She looked so calm… and beautiful.

Snapping out of my admirable daze, I caught her eyes as I cleared my throat and stepped into the nursery. To my presence, she smiled warmly at me.

“Hey, I’m surprised you’re still here.”

“Yeah, your niece and nephew kinda held me captive for an hour.” I snickered as she did the same and shook her head.

“That sounds about right. They always prey on the newcomers because they’re the most naïve and never want to tell them no. I can bet they ran you around, didn’t they?” she smiled, bursting into chuckles when I nodded with honesty.

“I can’t even lie, they did,” I simpered, peering around the nursery, “so, li’l man livin’ lavish already, huh?”

The walls were powder-blue, immediately putting you in a tranquil state of mind. As soon as you walked in, there was a white cot in the middle of the room, stationed beside the tan rocking-chair that Sonya was occupying. The changing-table was across from that, fixedly placed near the doorway. There was a white, woven dresser to the right of the cot, that held two stuffed-animals. A matching bookshelf, which already housed some baby-books, was a few feet down from that. All in all, the room was well-decorated.

“Yeah, he’s already pretty spoiled,” she admitted, staring at the empty wall space above his changing-table, “I want to get those wooden letters to spell out his name and put it there. What do you think?”

“That’s a cool spot for it. So, I’m guessin’ you decorated the room yourself, huh?”

“Yeah, this was my hobby while I was pregnant. I’m nowhere near done, by the way. His room will be my little passion-project. I have so many ideas for it. There, in that binder.” she smiled, pointing to the black binder on his changing-table. With a smile, I picked it up and opened it. There were color-palettes with variations of blue, Post-It notes with little handwritten tips and ideas, printed pages of furniture, stuffed animals, and equipment that she wanted to buy.

“Really? A chandelier?” I chuckled, making her giggle.

“It’s just a thought. All of those are thoughts that I probably won’t implement anytime soon. Well, maybe the mobiles and the hamper that I printed out, but not the chandelier. I think that might be too much.” she admitted while I continued to flick through the binder. When approached with a yellow Post-It tab, I flipped the page and saw her plans for the living-room. Similar to that of the nursery section in the binder, it was scattered with different ideas and pictures.

“This is more than just a hobby to you,” I mumbled, glancing up from the binder to make eye-contact with her, “this is your dream. I can feel the passion through the pages.”

“It is. I love interior-design. I went to school for it and everything.”

“So, that must be your job, then?” I asked, furrowing my brow when she chuckled and shook her head no.

“I wish. I work… well, as of now, I don’t work. But, before getting pregnant, I juggled bartending, blackjack dealing, and serving.” she revealed, surprising me. I assumed that Sonya worked in a more sheltered, office-type environment. She just didn’t seem like the nightlife kind of woman.

“Do you like what you did for a living?” I pondered, my previous thoughts hauling that question out of me.

“Well, sometimes. I mean, would I rather be doing something else? Of course. But, this is convenient and the money’s easy. I do wish to really take interior-design seriously someday, but now that I have Hassan, I don’t know how easy that transition will be.”

“It’ll definitely be tough, but if you want it bad enough, you’ll aim for it,” I told her, feeling the need to continue, “I’m tryin’a maintain that same mindset for the restaurant, too. Sometimes I be wantin’ to give up, but I done got this far. Ain’t no point in backin’ out now. You put in the years for school, you might as well utilize that degree. Just don’t let it go to waste, you know?”

“Yeah,” she said softly before smiling at me, “it’s definitely something that I want for me and Hassan. I don’t wanna be out at all these hours of the night when I should be home with him. We both deserve better than that.”

“You do.” I murmured, catching her gaze soon after I said that. Though the moment seemed natural on my end, it must have been awkward for her because she cleared her throat and diverted her eyes.

“So, uh, thanks for coming here today and hanging out with me and my people. You’re like a savior to them, too, so believe me, they were just as honored as me to have you.” she smiled. To be honest, I was through with hearing about anything related to the delivery and moreover, I was through with being praised for it. I was just thankful that both Sonya and Hassan were good.

“Listen, if we gon’ have a friendship of some sort, you have got to stop wit’ this talk. You’ve thanked me enough, Sonya. I did what anyone would have done, or tried to do. Now, promise me that we won’t talk about it again.” I stated before she shook her head in defiance.

“Nope, I cannot promise you that. You don’t know it, but you being there on that day, at that moment, will forever mean the world to me. I was terrified and there was a lotta shit weighing down on me. You know, from coming to grips that I was a single mother, to not really knowing my place in this world. I hide it well, but I was and still am very lost and afraid. And, at my most desperate and vulnerable moment, you were there. It’s something that I will never forget and always bring up when the time calls for it. I feel that I can’t thank you enough.”

Hearing that gave me insight on just how much I impacted her life by being there for her when she needed someone the most. So, as humble as I wanted to be about the situation, it was clear that she was affected in ways that I could not imagine and if she felt the need to often express it, I could understand that.

“Okay, no promises, then,” I chuckled, “I know that, uh, you’re going through some things and I’m just glad that I was there to help when you really needed it. If anything, I’m honored that you think so highly of me when I think so highly of you. Wit’ what you’re facin’, you maintain such a cool composure for your family and friends and that’s somethin’ to admire.”

“I try. I hate having them always worry about me,” she murmured before glancing at the bedroom window, “it’s starting to get dark.”

“Is that your way of tryin’a kick me out?” I smirked as she laughed and shook her head.

“No, I just don’t wanna keep you any longer. I’m sure you have things to do.” she murmured as she placed her son inside of his bassinet.

“Unfortunately. I gotta hit the books tonight. So, I’ma see around?” I asked, not really knowing how things would progress between us. If things had gone differently, this would have been our final encounter, but it just didn’t seem like the end for us.

“I hope so.” she admitted as I engulfed her in a hug. As we pulled away, we both heard the faint sound of a phone ringing from the other bedroom.

“Oh, that’s me.”

“Aight, handle that and I’a let myself out. I’m sure.” I chuckled when she seemed to have hesitated. Then, she broke into a smile and nodded her head.

“Okay. Bye, Hassan.

“Peace.” I simpered as we both ventured in different directions. As I jogged downstairs and turned the corner, I spotted Aaron still seated in the living-room with his kids and Noah.

“Aight, catch you later, my man,” I grumbled, throwing Aaron a nod in which he returned before smiling at the kids, “see ya’ll later. Be good, aight?”

“Okay.” the twins smiled in unison as they both slapped their small hands within mine for a high-five.

“I should have your car fixed up in about three days, my guy.” Noah assured as we dapped up one another.

“It’s no rush. I’ll still be able to get around so, don’t even stress yourself wit’ it.” I rumbled, not wanting to put him on a schedule. After I handed him the keys and we exchanged numbers, I went in search for Dave.

Peering into the kitchen, I furrowed my eyes when I noticed that Dave and Ebony were no longer there. Something told me to head towards the front-door and outside, I saw Dave taking his phone back from Ebony, who wore a seductive grin on her face.

“This fool.” I muttered as I watched him continue to flirt around with a married woman. I knew that I said it wasn’t any of my business, but I was gon’ make it my business to talk to him about it.

“Aight, I’a be sure to hit you up,” he smirked at her, turning his attention to me after I opened the front-door, “aye, you ready?”

“Yeah. See you later, Ebony.” I said, giving her a side-hug before pulling away.

“See ya, Hassan. Bye, Dave.” she sang, waving at him.

“Peace.” he rumbled with less enthusiasm than her before he turned to follow my lead to his car. Before I could get on him about what he was doing, he started talking first.

“Yo, why you ain’t tell me that shit?” he blurted, forcing me to furrow my brow at his random outburst.

“Tell you what, nigga?”

“That she named the baby after you.”

I shrugged.

“I mean, I wasn’t bein’ secretive about it. I just omitted from mentionin’ it ‘cause I ain’t think it was that important.” I said honestly, watching as he hit a button on his key-pad and the headlights flashed, indicating that the doors were unlocked.

“Nigga, how is that not important?” he exclaimed as soon as we both jumped inside of his car.

“Why you so moved over it? It’s just a name.” I snickered. I was floored that she had named her son after me, but I wasn’t alarmed by it like Dave and Whitney were. I understood the sentiment behind it and appreciated the gesture. It wasn’t like him having my first name made him my son or some shit.

“Yeah, your name. How you bein’ so nonchalant over it?” he inquired as I watched Noah get inside of my car, prepared to take it to his shop.

“David, it’s not that serious,” I said, watching him lightly kiss his teeth and lower his eyes at me when I sarcastically called him by his full first-name, “but, while we askin’ questions, is you gon’ tell me why you really wanted her boy to fix my car? ‘Cause that shit you told me earlier ain’t add up.”

“Well,” he began, turning the key and making the engine come to life, “‘cause I think you should pursue that. The whole car situation would give you more of a reason to be around her. I was just lookin’ out. So, no thanks necessary.”

“You damn right no thanks necessary. I got a girl.”

“Yeah, that’s just what she is. A girl. Sonya’s a woman. Hey, listen, I ain’t gon’ pressure you to make the right move. I’m just sayin’ make ya’ next move ya’ best move. Na’mean,” he snickered, nudging me as I side-eyed him and raised an eyebrow, “and, it kinda seem like she feelin’ you, too. No?”

Thinking on our previous interactions, I moved my head in a so-so motion. She wasn’t being flirtatious, or throwing herself at me, but I could see why Dave would believe she may have had some attraction to me. I just didn’t feel that it was for all the right reasons, though.

“Yeah, but it’s only ‘cause I delivered her son. It’s like, blind attraction. She’s displacin’ her feelings ‘cause of that shit. It’s not comin’ from a genuine place.”

“If that’s what you think, then I’ma gon’ head and leave it alone. But, if I were you, I wouldn’t pass that up.” he confessed, blankly staring down at the Rolex on his wrist.

“That’s how you feel ‘bout her sister?” I questioned, addressing the topic of him and Ebony. Snickering, he shook his head and swiped a palm down his mouth.

“A li’l bit, but not too heavy,” he said before releasing a deep laugh, “she got some potential, though, wit’ her fine-ass.”

“Yo, you do know she has a husband, right? The one that was right in the house wit’ their two children? The one that you met?”

“And? What that mean? That ain’t stop her from flirtin’ wit’ a nigga. She bored wit’ her relationship anyway, she basically told me. Her man spend more time at his job than wit’ his wife and kids. He literally pushin’ her into the arms of any man willin’ to take her.”

“So, that makes it aight for you to entertain her?”

“Man, don’t be preachin’ nothin’ to me,” he grumbled, fanning his hand at me, “I ain’t gon’ do nothin’ that she ain’t gon’ allow me to.”

“Whatever, D. I just think it’s foul that you poucin’ on a woman’s vulnerability like that.” I rumbled, pointing at him as he only shook his head.

“I am not. So, I’m droppin’ you off at Whit’s?” he asked, changing the subject because he knew that I was right. I snickered at that before responding.

“Uh, nah. We ain’t speakin’ right now and I got studyin’ to catch up on. I can’t be bothered wit’ it tonight. Just take me home.” I grumbled before he nodded. For the most part, the ride to my apartment was silent as we mulled over whatever was on our minds.

SONYA

“I love these onesies, Ebs.” I chuckled, holding up a red one that had black direction arrows labeling the arm and leg holes, with the phrase, you can do this printed in the center. She had a lot of silly onesies that belonged to Dedrick and now, belonged to Hassan.

“Mom bought him that one,” she snickered before throwing another red cup into the garbage, “it always amazes me how after a get-together, there’s always more cups left than people invited. And, why don’t people throw away shit?”

“‘Cause they figure someone else would do it. You don’t even have to clean everything, Ebony. I’ll do some tomorrow.” I assured. The guests didn’t make too much of a mess, but the house definitely needed a thorough cleaning. Being that I was in no condition to clean while I was pregnant, things weren’t the way that I usually liked them. But now, I could fix it up with no problem.

“You are not cleaning this house, Sonya. And, don’t think I didn’t hear you telling Deidra about moving some things around, either. You’re supposed to be on bed-rest and bonding with your son.” she nagged, forcing a soft chuckle from me. I hated consistency so, I was always renovating and decorating around my house. My house was my personal project; it kept me inspired and entertained.

“Yes, ma’am.” I stretched like a scolded child. Shaking her head, she simply laughed at me and continued throwing away the used plastic dishes. With Hassan nestled comfortably and carefully in my arm, I fished through some of the other baby-clothes that she had given me

“So… I see you and Dave were getting really acquainted with one another. What was that all about?” I asked, attempting to spark some conversation. In return, she playfully rolled her eyes and smiled.

For a majority of the evening, she were chatting up a storm with him with Aaron right there. Now, I wasn’t saying that she wasn’t allowed to have male friends with a husband around, but she knew how men were these days. Although I couldn’t detect it, I knew Aaron probably felt some kind of way about her smiling and giggling with a man that wasn’t him. As her sister, I didn’t really think too much of it; she just seemed so enamoured by Dave that I had to ask.

“Oh, please. He’s not even my type. Too thuggish for me. And, besides,” she smirked, flashing her pear-shaped engagement-ring, “I’m already taken.”

“That never stopped anyone before,” I snickered as she kissed her teeth and went back to cleaning, “so, what were you two even talking about?”

“Well, he’s a tattoo-artist and I’ve been telling Aaron for the longest that I would get his name tattooed right here, on my lower-back. I just wanted to know the pain-level for that area and he said it isn’t so bad. But, then again, he has fifteen-thousand tattoos,” she exaggerated through a giggle while wiping down the countertop, “he said he’ll do it, though.”

“Oh, so you’re actually getting Aaron’s name?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s an idea. What’s wrong with that?”

“I mean… nothing. I just think it’s unnecessary, you know? What if you two split up? Then, you have a tramp-stamp on your lower-back of a nigga you aren’t even with.” I chuckled, reflecting on the time that Carter had almost convinced me to get matching-tattoos with him. I thanked God that I didn’t go along with the plan because that ink on my skin would have lasted much longer than we did.

“That isn’t going to happen.” she muttered just before Aaron ventured into the room with their two sleepy children in tow.

“Hey. He looks just like you, Sonya.” he smiled, peering at his nephew who lied awake in my arms. Brooke and Dedrick followed behind, smiling at the baby, too.

“I know, right? Ain’t he blessed?” I joked, making him erupt into chuckles.

“Auntie, can Hassan come over again sometime?” Dedrick asked, stealing my attention. Sighing, I pursed my lips together and shrugged. I wasn’t too sure that Hassan would come around for the sake of my niece and nephew, but I didn’t want to crush their hopes, either.

“I’m not so sure, baby. We’ll have to see if he can come around when he isn’t busy. Did you have fun with him today?”

“Yeah, we played Hide-N-Seek, Tag, and he taught us how to play Man Hunt, too! He said that maybe next time, he can show me how to throw a spiral with the football.”

“Yeah, and he told me to bring my bike so, he can help me take the training-wheels off and teach me how to ride without them.” Brooke added, forcing me to glance at Ebony, who shrugged, and Aaron, who appeared confused.

“He said that?” I asked with an eyebrow raised. Hassan didn’t seem like the type to make broken promises, especially to children so, I didn’t know what to think.

“Well, he said maybe, if we see him again. That’s why we asked can he come back.” Brooke explained before I glanced up at Aaron, who appeared stumped by their eagerness for Hassan to return.

“Princess, why didn’t you just ask me to teach you how to ride the bike? And you, too, Dedrick. We have a football at the house, I can show you how to throw.” Aaron stated, furrowing his eyebrow.

In no way did I think he felt that his family was being snagged from him. He just seemed confused as to why his own children, who normally came to him for things like that, were relying on a man that they had only met once, and didn’t know if they were even seeing again.

“‘Cause you’re never home when we get home from school anymore, Daddy. I’ve been asking about the training-wheels for a long time.” Brooke exaggerated, making me snicker. I watched as Ebony crossed her arms, probably waiting to see how her husband would handle this problem. She had been complaining to him that he was missing out with the children, but Aaron claimed that the weekends allowed him more than enough time to provide his family with the attention that they needed. What he didn’t take into account was the fact that he slept his family-time away because he was so damn tired from his hectic weekday hours.

“This weekend, Daddy promises to do both of those things with you, okay? I’ve just been a li’l busy wit’ work and stuff. We can even go to the movies on Saturday, too.” he smiled, making them jump and down in excitement.

“Don’t get too ambitious now.” Ebony muttered, believing that no one heard her, but Aaron and I both looked her way. I held an expression of shock; he appeared aggravated.

“Please, not right now, Ebs.” he exhaled while the kids were discussing which movie they wanted to see. She rolled her eyes and continued wiping down the countertop. In the midst of the awkward moment, the only thing that I could think about was why the hell was she flaunting her ring, and further than that, why would she want to get his name tattooed if they were going through this shit? But, to each his own.

–

Since I was feeling tired and a wee-bit uncomfortable with the tension between Aaron and Ebony, I told her that I would go back to the bedroom to breastfeed Hassan. I had never seen them argue about anything, especially something as ongoing and potentially damaging as this. It was weird for me to be around.

While cartoons played on my TV, I slowly caressed one hand down Hassan’s back and with the other, I busied myself with my phone. Releasing a laugh at something that Ashley posted on her Instagram, I was surprised to see a text-message come through from Carter. I hadn’t spoken to him since the day before and again, I was reminded of the money that he had given me. Sighing, I opened it.

why you didn’t tell me you were discharged?

Frowning, I formed a response.

didn’t know i had to.

Immediately after my text sent through, the three dots appeared, indicating that he was already responding, and it was probably something smart. I did not feel like going back and forth with this boy.

shit, it would’ve been nice to know. i stopped by with my mother because she wanted to see you and Hassan. we brought you food and everything.

do you always have to be so damn inconsiderate?

“Uh-uh, he is not about to…” I muttered while ferociously replying to his text-message.

you should be the last one calling anybody inconsiderate when you have a whole ass CHILD that you refuse to father. but go on.

I knew that, that would trigger his anger, but hell, it was the truth. Had he informed me that he was stopping by the hospital, instead of just showing up as if we were on good terms, I would have made it a priority for Monica to see Hassan. I just didn’t understand how leaving the hospital without telling him made me the inconsiderate one.

fuck outta here tryin’a reverse the situation! my mother wants to see her grandson and she has a right to!

Just as I read that text-message, Ebony was entering my bedroom. Not paying her the slightest bit of mind, I typed my response.

i never said she couldn’t! just have her stop by tmrw WITHOUT you and she can see him. problem solved.

“Who are you texting? Looking all grumpy.” she muttered, closing my bedroom door behind her. I glanced up, thin eyebrows still knitted in frustration.

“Carter. I swear, he aggravates my whole life.”

“Oh, his punk-ass. What happened?” she asked, but I ignored it for the time being as he texted me back. Plus, I needed to give her a run-down of the hospital-visit before I revealed anything else.

i’ll stop by if i want to. that’s my son too.

“He’s just being a pain in the ass. I don’t even know why he’s texting me.” I mumbled as I fed into his bullshit.

yeah, a son that you didn’t want to claim. don’t be using my son as a way to be around me.

As opposed to the idea of our baby that Carter was, he had me truly convinced that he wanted nothing to do with him or me. So, with that in mind, I couldn’t understand why he wanted to be around now. The only thing that I pulled from this confusion was that he just wanted to have me in his life, somehow, someway, and I didn’t like that.

and you don’t be using him as a way to stay away from me.

“Hello, what happened?” Ebony pondered, placing her hands on her hips. Considering the conversation between Hassan and I done, I placed my phone down and turned my attention towards my sister. Just as I opened my mouth to respond, it clamped shut and I furrowed my brow in confusion.

“Where’s Aaron and the kids?” I pondered, abruptly changing the subject. It wasn’t a purposeful attempt, as I really wanted to tell her about Carter and his bullshit. But, I was curious.

“Aaron took them home. He claimed that I was taking too long and he was tired so, I told him to go. I swear, Sonny, he’s been working my nerve lately and I’ve been trying to be understanding so, we can make things work, but he’s pushing me.” she admitted, kicking off her sneakers. While carefully holding Hassan against my chest, I slid aside and patted the bed for her.

“Well, you know these hours are weighing down on him. It’ll be fine as long as you two stay mindful of each other and the kids.” I assured as she laid down beside me.

“Sure, sure. Now, spill the beans.” she chuckled, clearly not in the mood to discuss her own family matters.

“Well, it all started on Saturday when Carter stopped by the hospital a little after you and Mom left. He–”

“What? And, you’re just now telling me?”

“Oh, get a grip. I had plans to tell you. I needed to digest what happened first. Just listen,” I huffed, “he stopped by and basically told me that whether I want him to or not, he will be around for Hassan… financially, that is. He gave me three-thousand dollars and promises to do so every other month. Oh, and he told me that he needs time before he can accept that he’s a father. Only God knows when that’ll be, but when reality hits, he says he promises to be an active father and boyfriend.”

She was silent for a moment before speaking.

“Even though money won’t make up for his bullshit, I think you should take it for Hassan. Being a single-mother is hard enough as is so, do what you gotta do. Most mothers have to take the child support route, but him willingly contributing without you having to drag his ass to court every other month is good. Now, boyfriend? I don’t know about that one.”

“Me neither. I’m not interested,” I mumbled before thinking over that response, “okay, I would be lying to you if I said there weren’t any feelings still there.”

“Sonya, are you serious? This man left you high and dry for nine months when you were pregnant with his baby. There should be no feelings there at all.” she riposted as I kissed my teeth. I always valued my sister’s advice, but she could be extremely misunderstanding. There were times where I just wanted an ear from her, but Ebony didn’t know how to give anything besides tough-love and judgement. Still, that never stopped me from trying to get my point across.

“I get that, Ebs, but he’s my son’s father. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even have Hassan. I don’t know, I just think… maybe he was scared of the idea of being a father. I mean, before the pregnancy, he was a good man, Ebs. He was really good to me and then, all of this responsibility between owning the casino and having a baby on the way just switched him up. Now, I’m not saying it’s right, but I’m starting to understand his mindset. Listen, I’m stuck with this man for the next eighteen years–fuck that–for as long as my son lives, I’m stuck with this man. I would be willing to make things right, or at least be on cordial grounds with Carter for the sake of Hassan.”

Another deep silence entered the room as she digested my words.

“I still feel nothing but hatred towards that man, despite all that. I understand that you want to do everything in the best interest of Hassan, but for you to even think about taking him back is bizarre. Ya’ll don’t need to be together for Hassan to be a happy kid. I mean, have you ever heard of co-parenting?”

“Yes… but, I’m just saying that if he changed, or reverted back to how he used to be, I wouldn’t mind trying. I don’t want to rule out the possibility.” I said as she shook her head in disappointment.

“That’s just letting him know that no matter how big the fuck-up, given that this one takes the cake, he can always count on you to take him back. He’ll never learn.” she said, emphasizing her last three words.

“I wouldn’t make it easy for him.”

“You sure?” she asked cryptically while raising a brow.

“And, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You always had a weak-spot for him and having a baby with him just makes it all that much weaker. I mean, two days ago, you wanted nothing to do with the guy. Now, he actually has you thinking about a foreseeable reconciliation? You had on a whole front all this time.” she chuckled as I eyed her with a glare.

“I’m trying to be mature about the situation. For one, we have a son and I will not deprive them both of a relationship that they should have. Two, forgiveness is everything. It won’t be easy, but I’m willing. We need to be on the same page before there could be effective co-parenting. And, I feel that once we get on that same page, feelings might resurface and there’s nothing wrong with that. Especially if he redeems himself.”

“Alright, Sonya. I see you’re headstrong about it and I can’t tell you anything. You’re a grown-woman. In which case, we’ll just agree to disagree.” she said, dismissing the issue while opening the portal to another one in the same breath.

“Can’t you ever be supportive?” I blurted, forcing us to make eye-contact before she kissed her teeth.

“Oh, so now I’m unsupportive because I don’t want to see my sister getting hurt again?”

“I’m not saying that. I just think that you should at least try to see where I’m coming from. You’re so hell-bent on hating him that it’s clouding your better judgement. I don’t like the nigga all the time, either. Trust me. But, at the end of the day, my kid comes before all that animosity.”

“So, for Hassan, you have to put up with Carter’s bullshit? You talking about my judgement, yours is fuckin’ warped.” she argued, missing the entire point.

“Just forget it. You don’t see it and there is no part of me that feels like explaining it again.” I mumbled, growing irritated with her altogether. If I wanted sympathy and understanding, I wouldn’t be getting it from her so, there was no point in trying to get through to her anymore.

“I was done anyway.” she mumbled as I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever.” I muttered, fanning her off as I positioned Hassan a little better on my busty chest.

“Ditto,” she whispered, staring aimlessly at the ceiling before turning her head and smiling at Hassan, “he’s so damn cute. I’m proud of you, sis.”

“For having a baby?” I chuckled.

“No, for having a baby and being so strong throughout the whole thing, despite everything. I know you had your doubts and probably still do, but you’re going to do great. With or without Carter. I know I can be a bitch when it comes to him, but I just don’t want you to feel like you can’t handle it by yourself. I know you wouldn’t want to, but you can, Sonya. You’re stronger than everyone thinks.”

“Thanks, Ebs.” I sighed, sending her a genuine smile. It was funny how we could go from arguing, to making up in the matter of a mere second. Our sisterly bond was just that powerful.

“Did you have fun tonight?” she inquired. Releasing a light, sleepy chuckle, I nodded my head and slowly licked over my lips.

“Yeah, it was great,” I smiled, peering at Hassan, who was lying drowsily awake on my chest as I caressed his back, “it felt good to come home to so much support and love, you know? I needed that.”

“I know you did, kid,” she grinned, tucking her hands behind her head and crossing her legs at the ankles, “so… Hassan?”

“He’s fine. He’s just about ready to go to sleep since–”

“Not that Hassan, fool,” she muttered after kissing her teeth at my oblivion, “the other Hassan.”

“Oh… what about him?”

“That’s what I’m tryin’a figure out. Do you like him?” she pondered, forcing me to slit my eyes at her before rolling them in annoyance. Ah, here we go.

“Why can’t a man and a woman ever be friends without that kind of suspicion? I mean, seriously.”

“Why so defensive? I just asked a question.”

“Because,” I huffed before shaking my head, “no, I don’t like him. Maybe as friends, but we’re not even that so, I don’t know exactly how to answer your question. I like him as a person, I guess.”

“Oh my God, what a political answer,” she giggled, forcing me to do likewise, “okay, I’ll take that.”

“Good, because that’s all you were getting.” I sighed, yawning tiredly. Seconds of silence filled the room before Ebony broke it again.

“He’s good with kids.” she quipped, more than likely referring to Hassan. I furrowed my brow, figuring that there was more underlying her comment than just pure observation.

“Okay.” I dragged before she chuckled.

“I’m just saying. If things were to go past… whatever this is between ya’ll two, little Hassan wouldn’t be much of an interference. I know you talking about fixing things with your baby-daddy, but he seems like such a great guy. Most men stay away from mothers, but he seems comfortable with it. Plus, he delivered little Hassan. That bond between all three of ya’ll is already special.” she said, sounding so sure of herself. Taking my eyes off of the ceiling that I was staring at and to her face, I snickered.

“Okay, firstly, he has a girlfriend, whom I’ve met days ago. Secondly, I’m not interested. I got enough problems. And thirdly, I’ll probably never see him again after today,” I argued as she pursed her lips together unconvincingly, “I’m serious, Eb. The only reason he was around today was to get his keys and then, chill for a bit. After Noah fixes his car, that’s it. From here on out, he’ll be nothing but a memory and I’m totally cool with that.”

#therighttime

[valyrianczarina]

I just watched that episode of Black Mirror called “Nosedive”. It kind of hit home, in a disturbing/realistic way. Social media is such a waste of time. It conditions us to seek approval for not just how we look, but what we say, how we act, what we do, and who we date. Its superficial, its narcissistic, and its dangerous. An episode of a science fiction show gave me serious anxiety. I think that’s a symptom of something much larger. 

It sounds dramatic, but I feel like I cannot manage my Facebook and Twitter account without submitting to the mindless behavior that makes scrolling so satisfying. Tumblr is not so bad, because I treat this as an outlet for real introspect. I write, I reblog photos I find meaning or joy in, and yes, I post an occasional picture, but I never expect to be acknowledged for it. And thats the key. I can’t keep expecting for people to find me awesome, beautiful, smart, and funny for who I display myself to be online.

 I know I am not alone in this, and that in itself is comforting, but I just can’t keep doing it. I felt so strange about myself when the episode ended. I felt like I was yearning for something meaningful, for something real. Seeing the culture I live in, “mirrored” into a script like that was eerie.

I started thinking about stuff as miniature as the selfies on my phone, to the bigger things like my own dreams and aspirations - and my reasoning for wanting those things in the first place. The beautiful body, the “cool” friends, the six figure job, the big mansion, the brand new car. In retrospect, although I see the convenience and comfort in obtaining those materialized manifestations of my “success”, I know that those things won’t make me happy. Swiping on Tinder doesn’t make me happy. The attention is entertaining, and sometimes addictive, but I know that its fake. To believe that a hot boyfriend, a gorgeous wardrobe, or a 100k job would suddenly satisfy my human brain with real fulfillment is nothing short of a falsehood. 

I see the value in a quality education. I see the value in challenges. Real challenges. Running that extra mile, cleaning up your diet, saving more money, being more productive, studying a little harder. I see the value in a good career. But not because its the means to an end. Like, fuck. This life is so beautiful. There are so many incredible things worth experiencing, but to focus on something like a car or a high peer approval rating as the “grand prize” is so stupid. 

I am no longer going to idolize people for their Instagrams, for their Facebook profiles, or even for their wealth. People show you what they want you to see, and I’ll be the first to admit to it. I have a long history with deep insecurities and self loathing, and I have worked on it with principles of intrinsic value, not stuff. Only real life experiences like heartbreak, disappointment, and fear have granted me the real confidence that I believe I have. And you know what? It could be even better. I don’t need the approval of people from high school, strangers on the street, or guys at the bar. I am better than that. I value the approval and support of people I love. My parents, my closest friends, and my boss because he gives me a job I need, lol. But other than that? Forget it. 

I want authenticity. I want to be immersed in a great book without stretching my arm to check the “Ting!” that just went off on my phone.

I’m a human being. I’m a person. I am a young woman, and I have a lot to offer to the world, and the world has a lot to offer me in return. I’m not just an Instagram profile, or a Twitter handle, or even a blog on Tumblr. I accept the things I cannot change, while also embracing a challenge to work on what I can. I accept that it is not a race, but a marathon. There is beauty in every step. I do not determine my self worth by what other people think of me, whether its online or in real life. I carry myself with dignity and respect. I do it with no intentions of making others envious, and I don’t do it to seek a relationship, or a new group of friends. My likes on a picture, a status, or a tweet mean NOTHING. 

From now on, my own personal priority is to cultivate authenticity in all areas of my life. I want to lose weight for myself, to feel more comfortable in my own skin, to be healthier and more energetic. NOT for the ideal “come back picture”, or so my old acquaintances and distant family can see how I’ve blossomed. Heartfelt compliments are nice, likes are not. I don’t even think I am/was as obsessed with this shit as a lot of other people are, but I still find so much rationale in this choice. 

I feel almost as if social media has developed a bold anxiety and deficit in my attention span that I never had as a child, or even in middle school when I didn’t have a smart phone. I want to be in the moment. When I run 4 miles after work, I feel so good. Those are 4 miles, 45 minutes of my time where I am truly in the moment. I am engrossed in my breathing pattern, in my body movements, in my surroundings, and in the music I’m listening to. What if I could live that way always? 

Writing this out really made me feel better. I am committing to this. 

I am loved. I am worthy of a healthy relationship, a healthy body, and a successful future. I do not need a reaction for everything I do or say. I will be mindful of my present. I will come to realize a greater sense of self, and when I do that - the love and satisfaction I THINK I crave, will reveal itself in my heart.

#me #personal #confidence #socialmedia #anxiety