disassociation with the human race

For Your Eyes Only

Prompt: “I absolutely love ships where one character is usually serious and distant, but when they talk to that one person, their voice turns soft and gentle and is suddenly filled with fondness that they don’t show to anyone else.”

A/N: Based of this post
x Thank you to @purestheartslove for beta'ing

 

Klaus was always one to enjoy his own company. Living in a house with six siblings meant that any kind of ‘alone time’ was was scarce.

If it wasn’t Bekah knocking incessantly on his door begging him to play with her it was Kol pulling some sort of antics to get his and everyone else’s attention.

So every opportunity Klaus got to lock himself away in his room with his sketch pad and his pencil’s, he took. Even as a child his favourite pastime served as an escape from the rest of the world.

His drawings always made for better company than other people.

At school he adopted the same practice. Avoiding contact with the other children at all costs. Well-meaning teachers would attempt to coax him into to being more sociable but as the stubborn nine year old he was, he dug his heels in and never saw any reason to comply.

After all he’d had no say in the decision to move to this strange country, with it’s unbearably hot weather and it’s annoying natives and their funny accents.

He didn’t wish to fit in; he wanted to be left alone. So he did his level best to be as perfectly unsociable as possible.

His plan to disassociate himself from the rest of the human race had been working perfectly.

Until her.

  

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I’ve always been somewhat curious about space cadets. It’s a term used by the drug culture to describe one that has taken too many drugs and has gone insane. I stare into the disposable eyes of space cadets, empty and distant, often. The funny thing is, the scope of that definition is too small. What happens when you forget to take your drugs? What happens when you see the world, so greedy, so grimy, so desperate and cunning for what it is? The air is so thin now, there’s a crack in my helmet, slowly, gently killing me out in the vastness of the rest of the world.

Some one very important to me once said, “You want to be an astronaut, an astronaut goes up but always remembers to come back to earth….” But when you’re high most of your waking life, as it slips through the partially gripped, apathetic hand of a drug haze when do you come back to earth? Stuck in an orbit around a planet that does not recognize them anymore, a planet that they, themselves, don’t recognize anymore.

I fear that I have become stuck between the two worlds. Left to rot in the upper atmosphere at which point I’ll crash back down or get sucked even further out into space.

I just dont know anymore.

About my best friend

About the impostor of a friend I once knew

About an entire generation lost in space

and it scares me.

“Racism is a mental illness-”

Stop. Just fucking stop. 

Do not diminish people who struggle daily to fight against their own brains, their own lives, and the stigma of society, and forcibly associate them with a hateful, entitled asshole, who believes that they are genetically superior to other people because of their skin color. 

Do not blame another violent act on mental illness without any evidence, just so that you can just shake your head about the murderer without recognizing any flaws of the culture they were raised in.

Do not convince yourself that this murder was unavoidable somehow, unthinkable, unfathomable, pretending that this somehow was something created by a caricature of evil, beyond the limits of “a sane person.”

Do not pretend that these deaths occurred in a vacuum from the society you live in. Do not make excuses for racists. Do not associate mental illness with hatred, as if people without mental illness aren’t responsible for the vast majority of hate crimes.

Do not make up reasons to disassociate bigoted people from the human race, as if they weren’t just normal people living in mainstream society.

Just fucking stop.