I took my pills, tried talking to people (trained counsellor) and was honest, go to church, read the bible, pray to god.


You know you have those moments where everything’s fine and suddenly this sinking feeling starts and it’s like OH SHIT NO THAT and then it starts going downhill from there and there’s no way to stop it. You just have to try and “ease” it somehow.

Fishy Business - Seadweller M!A Open Rp [Start]

It all started with an itch.

The Medic had been rinsing out a beaker he’d used to hold a chemical that should never have any contact with skin, which was why he was wearing his gloves, when his hands had suddenly started to feel unbearably itchy. Worried that perhaps he’d somehow spilled a bit of the substance on himself, he carefully set the beaker down in the sink and pulled his gloves off, which had also started to feel a little tight around his fingers, and saw something he never would have expected.

His hands were covered in dark, fish-like scales, and his fingers had sprouted nasty looking claws, with thin webbing between them.

Suddenly starting to feel the itchiness on his feet, he yanked his boots off as quickly as possible (his claws scraping them up a bit in the process), only to discover that the same difficulty was occuring in his lower limbs… and the scales seemed to be growing up them all towards his torso.

He slapped a hand to his neck as soon as the sensation began in that area (nearly stabbing himself), feeling some kind of slits or something seem to open up there.

And that was when he stopped being able to breathe.

Gasping like the fish out of water that he was, he completely ignored the fins that grew out of his limbs and spine (the latter tearing his shirt apart) as he realized what those slits in his neck were and started scrambling to find a water source.

Hopefully he wasn’t a saltwater creature.

I have this immense fear surrounding loneliness that I wish I didn’t have. Whenever I’m away from my phone I realise I have no one at all, I live off of online social interaction pretty much because I have social anxiety. And I feel a sinking feeling whenever I realise I’m alone and start to panic but I wish I didn’t care and was fine about it


A year is a long time for nothing to happen but the seasons unreflecting a dogged winter trapped inside. A winter of gray is gray, but eventually the snow lets up and melts back into the trees blossoming pink, fleshly babes flush with life.  A spring of green is green, but sometimes the colors don’t add up and the overgrowth stays gray.

Maybe it’s always been like this, snow coming down through the seasons, but is camouflaged by a cold, mute winter and so you pass it off as just the time of year. Sprig is lush, bursting with life, but a seed trapped inside won’t germinate.


A kitchen is the perfect place to watch spring reveal itself- the window overlooking the garden, ants crawling through the pantry, light pouring in to help the water boil.


I’m really drunk. I’m really drunk standing over the sink and feel the little drunk shrew come alive and start to burrow her way around my head. She is nearly blind and all the alcohol has tampered with her sense of direction and so eventually couches in a set of memories I tried to fill in with soil.

We haven’t gone far, are still in a kitchen the morning after sleeping at Peter’s. He asks me to stay the night after fucking on his parents couch with the tv sounding in the background. The protagonist is buried alive, furiously trying to escape death when I hear myself agree to stay without feeling like I fully consented to what I was saying. We fucked twice more that night and then again in the morning half asleep which was mostly my doing because I wanted to but also because I don’t have anything to say in the morning after spending the night in someone’s bed and so avoid disappointment by distracting him with his already erect penis. He pulls himself in, whispers into my neck to be quiet because his brother might be awake. We cum or at least I do and he sort of rolls over pathetically and maybe kind of frustrated, goes to the bathroom where he finishes himself off and waters the plant whose yellow tips are practically begging for a drink.  I get up and stare at the sweat that’s collected in the middle of the bed like an oblong puddle given life by a storm.  

We walk downstairs into the kitchen. He makes coffee and toasts rosemary bread. I don’t remember whose idea it is to cut up the avocado, but he preps that too. I’m sitting at the island watching him ebb down the shoreline. I have no idea what time it is and don’t really care either, purposefully avoid the clocks and instead concentrate on the tide- feet moving, hands drumming, eyes looking up and to the left, right and back again.

I don’t remember really what he or we talk about, none of it matters. The memory is voyeuristic- I am watching him amazed at how all the little cogs push and pull in his head like the gods have taken a hack saw and cut his skull in half to reveal all the inner workings: gallons of water rushing over the edge of a something, furious without an end in sight. The water sounds of laughter sweeping up everything in its path like it never had a chance.

That’s what is was like being around Peter, being swept out to sea: warm and deep and teaming with life.


Like an idiot I believed I could do it, believed in myself, believed in the ocean. But I am not a good swimmer and the undertow is strong. I swim along the shore in parallel, trying to stay in stride, trying to keep my head above water. Nothing gives and I’m exhausted. I keep swallowing mouthfuls of sea. I’m dehydrated, start to see things that aren’t really there, believe things that aren’t really true. I am confused and scared and tired, only to realize that I am alone and that I am going to die- a truth I am sure of.

I give up, let myself go slack. It’s been months and no one has found my body because it is no more- eaten by a school of tuna and shat out to be eaten by other fish. The cycle continues until I have somehow fed every creature in the ocean, and so at least, finally, am something, a spring to believe in.

Newfound Grace (Markiplier Fanfiction)

Chapter One 

New beginnings are never easy, there’s always something bittersweet to it making them almost unbearably hard. They should be like a breeze, though, considering that most of them are triggered by unfortunate events and misery you run from. Losing a love, losing a job, losing grace, losing yourself. But no matter what you’re leaving behind, you’ll always miss it someway down the road, and that’s when things start to get complicated.


This sinking feeling of missing something important stuck with me through the entire course of the day, through the drive to the airport, the flight, the first time I entered my new apartment, all the time. Yet I had just left my homeland Germany this morning, geez, I was pathetic. I should’ve been excited, thrilled even, to start a new chapter of my life here in Los Angeles, California today.

“Pull yourself together, God damn it”, I taunted myself quietly, sipping on the bottle of water I had gotten at the airport before my flight had departed, aware that I wasn’t going to have any kind of groceries at my place by the time I arrived. I looked around the bottom floor of my new place, the bright sun shining through that huge window front perfectly illuminated all those boxes full of my belongings, waiting on me to unpack them.

Luckily, I had hired a few friendly men who had already put up the most important parts of my furniture such as my couch, my bed, my dining table and especially my desk.

I could’ve gone without a bed for a few days yet not without my desk, not only because of university starting again for me on Monday but more because of me needing to finish that novel I had been working on for over a year now. It was like my baby, always needed to be taken care and thought of and it had kept me from sleeping countless times.

A loud sigh escaped my lips. These boxes were practically screaming to be unpacked.

“Actually, I think I should go grocery shopping first. Who knows how long stores are opened around here, considering I need to find one before anyway?”, I mumbled, already taking on my shoes.

“You’re just procrastinating”, my mind reminded me, but I just rolled my eyes and grabbed my purse before exiting my apartment.

Thanks to our great friend technology, it was a cakewalk to find the nearest grocery store. Even close enough for me to get there by bike, I had wisely taken with me from back home, yet the two bags full of food and drink dangling heavily from the two sides of my handlebar made me damn my decision to hell and back.

“Next time I’m taking the fucking bus or whatever, anything is better than this torture again”, I grumbled as I carried my groceries up the stairs to the floor my apartment was in. Finally at my front door, I dug my keys out of my pocket meanwhile letting my eyes roam down the corridor. There was only one other apartment on this floor, my only neighbor.

As I unlocked my door, I decided to pay him or her a visit tonight. Just as I stepped inside, a loud “Fuck!” echoed through the hall, almost making me drop my bags.

“Fucking fucker fuck, I almost had him!”, a clearly male voice from the other end of the hall screamed again.

I chuckled to myself. Well, I guess I was paying “him” a visit then.

(Disclaimer: I don’t own Markiplier, (duhhhh)…I know it was short but it’s just a little bit to feed your appetite. Hope you enjoyed it <3)

I thought winter was supposed to be the hardest season for depression, not spring. In theory, I feel great: the days are beautiful whether they’re grey and rainy or bright and sunny. It’s getting warmer. I can feel the humidity start to sink under my skin and loosen my joints. Everything’s fresh. Yay! 

But both my supervisor and my principal have mentioned this week that I don’t seem quite “right”. Principal said I don’t have as much “pep” as I used to, which is….? I don’t even know what to say to stuff like this. I don’t have an explanation, and even there was some tragic personal backstory, Operation Shut the Fuck Up prevents me from talking about it. 

I dunno, man. I feel okay most of the time (especially when I’m at school. It’s when I’m alone that I crash), so I don’t know where these two are getting it.

[ Lost ]

Cloud had heard of a place called Farplane before, but was still unfamiliar with it. He didn’t know how exactly how he got here, but at least there didn’t seem like there was any threats. Looking around, he didn’t see much people. He wanted to call out, maybe there was someone who could help him.

“” The quietness started to sink in. Usually it made him feel at peace, but the sudden feeling of being alone bothered him. He continued to walk down a path, hoping to find someone down the road.


I’ve never felt more alone.
I’ve never felt that sinking feeling in my stomach until now, and I feel so bad for the people that feel that constantly.
—  Sinking feeling starts


The thing is
I was happy ten minutes ago.
I was happy and I was smiling
and I meant it all.
It was real.

But then I felt sick.
To my stomach, to my heart
to my core.
It doesn’t make sense.
I know it doesn't—
but this is real too.

The sadness is as real as the happiness.
Only it’s fathoms deeper.
The happiness is the surface
and when you’re there everything seems alright.
More than alright even.
You can’t even imagine being sad when you’re on the surface,
because you’re happy.
Because it’s not real. Not in that moment.

But then you start sinking.
You start sinking and so does that feeling in your gut
so do the sides of your lips as the smile you wore
grows heavier.
And then the surface disappears.
Your sadness takes over
and the surface, the happiness
is not real.
It’s not real because it’s not now.
Why did you let it slip away?
Why did you let yourself sink?

But you didn’t let yourself sink,
not really.
You had no say in the matter.
You didn’t choose to be sad.
It just happened.

—  Idk
The Way

The way your voice changes after a couple of drinks,

the way you make me feel when the alcohol starts to sink,

the way it alters your night

and 9 times out of ten will result with us in a fight.

The way that fight makes me realize that you don’t care,

because all of your actions tonight were especially unfair.

The way you wake up the next morning,

differs each weekend, always without warning.

The way you remember the good but never the bad,

is a most definitely reoccurring fad,

The way that each weekend leaves me distraught,

should i tell him or not?

BJ'S BLOG 05/08/15 "Spouse Quitting Their Job"

It’s time for Group Therapy! If you’re a Rock-A-Holic seeking help, then we’ll do everything we can to offer you some advice. No guarantees and no refunds, but hey! At least it’s free.

Today’s patient-in-need is Kelly, who is worried about her husband’s career path. It seems that he’s quitting his stable job in favor of starting his own business, and Kelly has the sinking feeling that he’s not making the right choice. Kelly’s husband has a great-paying job, but he’s been unhappy for some time, due to a bad relationship with his boss. She loves and supports her husband, but she’s worried about their ability to keep the household functioning on her salary alone, while he tries to make a career for himself with his new pursuit.

Read the rest of my blog here:

if I seem ambivalent, if I seem distant and hard to catch up with, please understand that I’m only learning to guard myself, set boundaries with who I am and want to be, and how to never get caught up in all the what-ifs and could-have-beens. if it seems that my affections have gone astray and strange, they haven’t - it’s that I’m learning how to appropriate them in a healthier way.

I can feel the cusp of my potential starting to sink in, and I don’t want to lose momentum. I’ve had to realize that no one can help me figure out myself, that I don’t have to be constantly wandering, lost. my compass has always been where it exists - right in the center of me, myself, and i. I’m constantly learning about myself, and I still have miles to go before I sleep.

I can better my relationships with my family, my friends, and my future paramours, if I can just curb my frustrations, if i can just learn to be kinder. I don’t want to waste time with the wrong people who use me up and then walk away. but I want to be kinder, be happier and show that happiness in the best ways possible.

I’m trying, goddamnit. don’t give up on me just yet.