experimenting :s

anonymous asked:

Your recent post where you list orientatons and such got me thinking about something. I was wondering why Mettaton was "debatably" nonbinary or trans. From my perspective, he? are definitively trans, as he? were uncomfortable with his? body being a ghost and decided to change it to become more comfortable. Is this me not seeing another side to the argument, or is it more because this isn't specifically a gender issue? I am using he because he? seems to be comfortable as male in cannon.

I put debatably trans because although Mettaton is basically only ever referred to as male and has basically always identified as male, the experience of getting a new body that makes one feel more like oneself is a very trans experience. He’s at least allegorically trans.

i say that like i have plenty of things to be upset with [how a certain subculture of trans women tends to act], and there are, its just hard to pinpoint a lot of them, but I’m speaking mostly of sexual forewardness here, which is what bugs me the most of all.
i know ill get called a hypocrite because most of my humor relies on a lot of sexual themes (and most of my popular posts reflect this) but it just like… it’s way worse in my eyes when its a more personal experience. and it’s not even like i havent had a phase like that where i was way too sexually forward, like im completely aware of it. I’ve grown out of it for sure (into a sex repulsed phase, however relevant that is) but i think this isn’t something everyone grows out of.. you sort of have to end up making yourself uncomfortable to fall out of it.. and i totally understand also that a lot of trans woman based oppression (and lgbt oppression in general of course) is a sex based oppression, but using that as an excuse to be a not great person is not only a very un-nuanced and reductive outlook, in my opinion, but also personally very offensive as a trans woman.

anonymous asked:

Love how you bring up African Americans but fail to know they're the most aborted.

I don’t even know what this is even referring to lol, but okay anon. Even though African Americans have a higher chance of having abortions, have you critically thought about why that is instead of blindly thinking that the ~eeeevil abortion industry~ has it out for black people?

just maaaaybe it’s influenced by how the median wealth of white households is 18 times that of Hispanic households and 20 times that of black households?

or that how black people are less likely to have health insurance or consistent access to healthcare, and therefore birth control?

or even how controlling for income still fails to take into account other disadvantages that pregnant minorities experience?

it’s as if systematic racism plays a part in the reproductive decisions of marginalized groups and that there are several root causes for why abortion rates are high among certain groups compared to others. what a novel concept.

lol it’s funny exclusionists I see now who makes this sort of argument always go “anything bad happening to aces/aros that they could think is at all related to being ace/aro is because of misogyny and toxic masculinity nothing else”

Like it’s bad enough they’ll try to explain other people’s experiences to them and rule out from the start they could possibly having anything to do with them being ace/aro.

But even aside from that, shut your mouth maybe, at least a year back they’d try to list some more crap/-isms in addition to these two things, even if it was one more sort of argument where ppl were tiresomely prone to leaving their lanes.

Like if you honestly think all problems in society that can affect an ace/aro can be reduced to misogyny and toxic masculinity, if you’ve “forgetting” about the broader concept of intersectionality, if you’re not even leaving room to acknowledge that my asexuality/aromanticism interact with my mental health and race, you’ve already proven you’re ignorant as fuck and I need you to not lecture people about things you know nothing about. I 100% guarantee you we don’t need you to “educate” us

anonymous asked:

what do you love/miss most about New York?

on a daily extremely basic basis


and there’s Dumpling-Man-On-St-Marks dumplings (pork, fresh, covered in green onion slivers), fried fresh and crispy, $4.50 for a whole meal during after-school happy hour

and Mamoun’s Falafel, the only 100% vegetable meal that makes you Feel filled walking through the rain on a mournful summer evening, hot and crunchy and indulgent (I mean other falafel does this too, but I had a lot of good narratively important Mamoun’s experiences)

and 3am pierogi at Veselka, which is not exactly street food but the same level of cultural comfort food writ large

and those empanadas I had the the Bryant Park Holiday Market, full of spicy chicken and thick pastry and the only good peas I’ve ever digested

but most of FUCKING all, the food truck next to my subway stop for the R train in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, the GODDAMN BEST GYRO I HAVE EVER EATEN, five dollars for a massive dripping meal-and-a-half of spicy, melt-in-your-mouth cheap cuts of lamb you watch the chefs chop hot on the grill (mocking you gently for coming by every day) rolled up in a heated slab of pita with fresh-chopped tomato and lettuce and covered in white sauce (tzatziki) and red sauce (a spicy magical guarded secret; NON-NYC GYRO SHOPS AND MEDITERRANEAN CAFES DO NOT SEEM TO HAVE OR COMPREHEND RED SAUCE) and you feel like a real person for the first time since the last time you put this in your goddamn mouth

I dream about good gyros and that halal food truck in particular almost weekly, three years later.

you can eat the greatest food you’ll ever eat in your life that will ruin you for cheap shock-you-into-being-alive food for the rest of your life for under five dollars walking the streets of New York.

and b) everything is huge and alive and narrative and will suck you into its orbit if you want it to. just walk up Broadway, from top to bottom. pace up and down St Marks. watch people. walk for miles. sit in a random cafe you picked for cheap decent refillable coffee and $1.50 bagels and okay wifi for four hours and your life is different forever. your life keeps getting different forever in three-hour increments, because there’s always narrative, there are always people who are larger than life, who change everything, who make you Want. you want to be as big, as magic, as pulling-others-into-one’s orbit as they are. and you walk down the street and there’s a free show happening in a tiny cafe you’ve never been to, so you go in, and a stranger buys you a beer. someone lets you cry into their coat. you help someone find a payphone to call their parents. you get a job interview by accident. New York is too big, all the time, and if that’s the sort of thing you want or know how to use, it’s intoxicating. it’s Everything. you can sit back and feed on the echoes, or you can grab it with your teeth and hang on. you can Be part of the narrative, because it’s always flowing past within reach. you fail at it, you find a different angle. magic you never asked for keeps happening. it doesn’t feed you. it doesn’t keep you from wanting to walk in front of a train. but it Is. it’s Big. it makes you feel like you can touch the pulse of the universe. like if you don’t mean anything, you can touch something that Does, and steal a little of the Feeling of that. you can eat that along with three dollar falafel. you’re part of the Story now. you just have to figure out how to ride it till you’re not just an extra with character.

and c)

I could ride the subway alone for the rest of my life and be fulfilled. god.

For Anyone Interested

Here’s three chapters of something original I started and then stopped. It was called Careful and it’s probably triggery. Also if you search my blog for A Gina In A Bottle, there’s chapter one of another story I started but stopped. Both were from last year.


One -

High school. Senior year.

I’d been back for four weeks so far and I already I wanted to bury my head in the sand and never resurface.

Everyone knows that high school can either be the best experience or the worst experience of someone’s young years. Every teen movie or every show tells us that we need to be one of the popular kids. We need to date the quarterback of the football team or be head cheerleader, preferably both. We need to walk the halls with our heads held high and a sneer on our faces as we look down our noses at the geeks and freaks. Otherwise, our high school years will be hell.

And no one wants that. No one wants to be shoved in a locker daily, or have rumours spread about them. No one wants to be in the lowest tier of high school popularity.

So I worked hard. I got good grades as well as whining at my mom from a young age to enrol me in gymnastics and dance classes, skills I’d need to be a cheerleader. I got braces early to ensure that my smile was perfect, and from the age of eleven I was constantly on a diet. I worked my ass off to be one of the popular kids and to not be one of the geeks and freaks.

And I was. I was head cheerleader, dating the captain of the football squad whilst maintaining a b + average. I was queen bee in my group of friends, looking down my nose at the little people, the kids who hadn’t worked as hard as I had to get to where I was.

Every guy in school wanted to do me and every girl wanted to be me. I was everything teen movies and shows told me I should want to be.

Until suddenly I wasn’t. Suddenly going into my senior year, I was the outcast. The girl that had rumours spread about her, the girl that had liar scrawled across her locker.

I was the girl that teachers pulled to one side to ask if I was okay, all the time wondering if I’d been telling the truth or not. I suddenly had a weekly appointment with the school guidance counsellor, being excused from whatever class it clashed with to attend. I found that my post as head cheerleader was no longer available to me, it was a conflict of interests apparently.

My friends had abandoned me before the summer break and my family walked on eggshells around me. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. This wasn’t what I’d worked for.

Should I have spoken out? Should I have kept it to myself? Had it even happened the way I remembered it?

The more I heard stories about what HAD happened, the whispers of people who weren’t even there, the more I had questioned whether this had been my fault. And the more I questioned it, the more I drove myself insane.

Which is ultimately what had cemented my position as the lowest of the low at school. Sealed my fate as a freak, someone that it was considered okay to gossip about, to make fun off. I wanted the questions to stop, the constant doubt that plagued me to go away.

So two weeks into my summer vacation I’d lain in the bath tub, taken a razor blade to my wrists after carefully researching the correct way to cut, and I’d tried to kill myself.


Not succeeded.

And somehow everyone in the school knew about it.

Two -
“Mckenna, are you sure you don’t want to change schools?”

My mother paused before taking another mouthful of her food, watching me carefully to make sure I was eating.

“Mom, there’s no point. Everyone in this school district knows. Everyone in the next school district knows. It was all over the Internet. Short of moving to another country entirely, I’m pretty fucked.”

“K! Language… ” My Mom exclaimed, Dad reaching out and touching her arm.

“Leanna, it’s okay. Let it go.”

Dad was my number one supporter throughout all of this. Mom… Not so much. It wasn’t like she wasn’t there for me but, I could see the questions in her eyes sometimes, especially after I’d retracted my statement. She’d constantly asked why I’d retracted if I was telling the truth. If I has nothing to hide then I should stand up myself and take the case to court.

Dad however, he understood. He saw how hard it was for me to deal with the questions being repeated over and over again. Everytime the officer had asked if I’d made it clear that I wasn’t willing, everytime they asked if I was certain I’d said no. He knew why I’d retracted, because I’d have crumbled in court. I wouldn’t have been able to handle the pressure, the looks.

Instead I was just crumbling at life. Everyday it seemed like a small piece of me was chipped away, everyday I was further away from the person I’d been four months ago. I wish I could just…

Actually, I don’t wish anything. I wished to be popular when I was a little girl and look at what popularity brought me. I now understand why they say to be careful what you wish for.

“I don’t appreciate that sort of language at the dinner table, Daniel. It’s not acceptable.” Leanna Willis sniffed, staring pointedly at me.
Great. So what had started of as a conversation about my wellbeing was going to turn into an attack on me because I’d dropped an f bomb. As if there weren’t more important things going on.

“Leanna, please. Mckenna is sorry she let that word slip. Aren’t you?”

Fine. “Yes, sorry Mom. I’ll try not let it happen again.”

“Good. I don’t like to hear that sort of language coming from your mouth, K.”

I shook my head and placed my knife and fork on the table.“ How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

She looked at me startled, as if she’d forgotten the trillions of times I’d burst into tears over the past four months whenever someone had used my old nickname. The nickname he used. Everytime I heard it, it was as if I could hear his voice whispering it into my ear, his weight crushing me.

“Oh! Yes, I thought by now you’d have been over that.”

Daniel Willis looked at his wife with an expression of disbelief on his face whilst I just stood up and walked away, heading up the stairs and into my bedroom. I couldn’t cope with my Mom when she was like this. One minute she was sympathetic and caring, the next she was so blasé about it that you’d think it had happened to one of her friends daughters and she was just casually gossiping about it.

Two minutes later a knock sounded at my door.

“Mckenna, can I come in?”

“I guess.”

Dad walked into my room, a plate of chocolate chip cookies in his hand. He set them down on my bedside table and then sat at the end of my bed.

“I’m sorry about your Mom. I don’t understand why she’s like this sometimes. I think she just struggles to understand it all and can’t process it. Your Aunt Chrissie is trying to get her to see someone about it to help.”

I just shrugged, there wasn’t anything I could really say or do. Chrissie was probably right, maybe Mom did need to see someone.

“Are you sure about not changing schools though? It can’t be easy for you there.”

“Dad, it wouldn’t be easy for me anywhere. I’ll cope.”

“Like you did over the summer?” he looked away from me when he said that, his voice cracking.

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll never do that again I promise. I’m just trying to keep my head down and get on with it. The teachers don’t let it get too bad, well most of them at least.”

The gym teachers were the worst, the football coach, my old cheerleading coach. They both looked at me with pure disdain on their faces, like I’d purposely tried to ruin the teams they’d worked so hard to put together. It wasn’t like anything I’d done had an effect on them anyway, it had been his last year on the team before college, and Sammie Townsend had been all too happy to step into my shoes as head cheerleader.

“If you’re sure then… You know how proud of you I am right baby? And that I’m here for you one hundred percent.”

I did. I remembered the look of anger and heartbreak on my Dad’s face when I’d told him, how my older brother Evan had had to physically restrain him to stop him leaving the house and going around to the Mckenzie residence. And I remembered the expression of sadness on his face when I woke up in the hospital bed, him clutching my bandaged wrist like he himself was holding the wounds together.

“I know Daddy. I love you.”

He rose my from bed and left the room, closing the door behind me. It was then that I reached under my bed and pulled out the shoebox with the articles I’d clipped. I don’t know why I’d kept them, maybe to remind myself that it was real, that it had happened.

“Headcheerleader accuses boyfriend of rape”

Then a few weeks later:

“Accusation of sexual assault retracted.”

The final one came from a print out from the schools own online newspaper, an article that the school had removed within hours when they’d realised it had been posted.

“Mckenna Willis attempts suicide after lying about Scott Mckenzie rape. The liar lives.”

Three -

I won’t go into it. Not into detail anyway. I’ve already done that countless times for the cops, for the Dr that completed the rape kit and the medical exam, for my parents.

What I will explain is how deeply I thought Scott Mckenzie loved me, how I thought he respected my wishes, that I wanted to wait. He didn’t know that I was planning on sleeping with him anyway before he went away to college in the fall. But that would have been on my terms.

What he did to me, wasn’t.

We’d been together for eighteen months, he was a year above me in school and the object of almost every ones affection. Yet he wanted me, and I was all to happy to let him have me. At least the parts I was willing to give.

We were the school power couple, homecoming King and Queen. People used to joke that if we married, I’d be Mckenna Mckenzie, a name so ridiculous it sounded made up. He was the one that started calling me K, something all of our friends and even my family adopted themselves. For the longest time I’d been either Mckenna or Mac to those who knew me from kindergarten. But Scott didn’t like Mac, said it sounded too masculine. So I became K. And I was happy to become her, it fit the school life I’d had planned for myself. Every couple aspired to match Scott and K, and every teenager without a partner looked up to us as ‘relationship goals’.

Scott was… For the most part, the perfect boyfriend. He’d take me on dates, buy me flowers and gifts, and generally be supportive of me. He did however push things. I’d told him that I didn’t want to have sex with him yet, that I wanted to wait. “What for though?” he’d always ask.

I didn’t know. We did stuff and I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t ready to have sex with him. When I finally decided that I was, I had it planned. I didn’t want to lose it in the back seat of one of our cars, or in our bedrooms whilst our parents watched TV downstairs. I didn’t want a quick fumble at Storm Point, the local make out point. I wanted it to be special, to happen in an expensive hotel room.

I didn’t get that chance. He made the decision for me. In the back of his car.

It took four minutes and fifteen seconds. I know because I counted every last one of them, my eyes fixated on a tiny rip in the material covering the roof of his car.  One minute we were fooling around, doing the things I was happy with.

Four minutes and fifteen seconds later, I was a victim.

Four minutes doesn’t seem that long, not really. I Googled things someone could do in four minutes afterwards.

I could listen to a song, I could watch a you tube video. I could microwave a meal, or make an omelette. I could meditate or take a power nap. Or I could learn something new.

Here’s what I learned in those four minutes. That no doesn’t always mean no if the person you’re saying it to doesn’t want it to.

That someone you thought cared for you and loved you, could take advantage of you so horrifically.

In four minutes I learned what it was like to have your power, your choice, taken away from you.

In four minutes I learned how easy it is for someone to break me.

If anyone remembers my one shot “Used” it would have probably ended similarly to that. Or at least that was one idea.

yellow and blue diamond: are standing completely upright somewhere in a courtyard, leaning on each other, actually just fast asleep

yellow zircon: such goddesses! in such deep thought… my mind couldn’t begin to comprehend the majesty unfolding within their minds!

blue pearl, with 6000 years experience: uh. yes. that’s what they’re doing. absolutely

Day off today, and with Camp NaNoWriMo in only five days, I need to get my head down and have the last three pieces for “The Longest Drop” done. I have ideas for two pieces, but the last one will be a surprise because I honestly have no idea what to write about ^^”

This collection is a bit of a mish-mash of subjects, really. I’ll have to sit and really think through the reading order when I’m done because despite that to me there’s a thought pattern, to anyone else it’s going to be kind of hard to follow smoothly. Oh, there are a few running themes (one of which I’m kind of concerned about having in there at all, but it’s a solid ten pieces and I can’t bring myself to take them out again) but my concern is that they don’t tie in together very neatly. I suppose that’s what comes from writing about my life experiences though, huh? There’s nothing neat about real life!

In other news, I’m buying myself a laptop! It’s only going to be a second-hand piece of crap, but I’m still super excited! As much as I love my desktop, it does rather tie me to the flat when I have work to do. A laptop will give me the freedom to go out and about to write (I tried handwriting into notebooks, but LORD that takes so long!) and through the summer months that’s going to be amazing! :D 

Anyway :) I gots werk to do! 

Hope you all have an amazing day! xx

hooklinesinker  asked:

What would happen if some oblivious outsider somehow found the church/castle? I take it that it wouldn't be the best of experiences for them?

that’s actually how i imagine ifrit and chops/new fire and aether became ghouls in a sort of rocky horror “oh no our car broke down and things got out of hand really fast” situation lmao

Sterek Reversebang
Daily round-up

JUNE 24th

Author: demisexualhale

Artist: wildamongwolves

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: Meant To Lose

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Stiles turns to him, a toothy grin and eyes lit up like fire, and says, “Okay.”

In which, Stiles and Derek are Pack, and Pack is everything

Length: 4597

Warnings: Author Chose Not to Use Warnings

Tags: unhealthy relationship, moral dubiousness, canon rewrite

Notes: n/a

Author: froggydarren

Artist: captaintinymite

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: a bit of a fixer upper

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: The Hale skiing resort is known for coaching skiers and snowboarders that have various levels of experience. Nevertheless, it’s rare – it never happened before, as far as Derek knows – that Talia would decide to coach someone who’s technically too old to be starting in competitive skiing or riding. On top of that, the kid comes in too close to the competition season, and suddenly the finely honed training system is threatened.

The last thing Derek needs this close to tournaments is a distraction. No matter how talented or attractive, the kid that his Mom has decided to coach is going to be just that, and Derek is already unimpressed, before the guy even gets to the resort.

aka The One Where there’s a lot of snow, nobody builds a snowman, and Stiles is the distraction that Derek doesn’t need.

Length: 12545

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Alive Hale Family, Skiing, Snowboarding, Snow Storm, Younger Cora Hale, Grumpy Derek, Snowed In, Mutual Pining

Notes: n/a

Author: scarlettletterr

Artist: kenshymizu

Art post || Story post

Art warnings/content notes: n/a

Title: The dumb kid that used to follow you around (That’s not what you were).

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Once upon a time, Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale were the Best Friends in the Whole Wide World, per Stiles’ saying. Nowadays, Stiles is pretty sure that Derek hates him.
Derek is pretty sure Stiles hates him too.

The thing is, neither of them really hate the other one.

Length: 10843

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Non-Consensual Kissing (not between main pairing), Bullying(very quickly mentioned), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, past Derek/Paige (mentioned), Childhood Friends, Alive Hale Family, Oblivious Stiles and Derek, Omega Stiles, Alpha Derek, Sports Rivalry, Basketball Player Derek, Lacrosse Player Stiles, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Light Angst, Miscommunication, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Alive Erica and Boyd, Getting Together, First Kiss, BAMF Stiles, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Freeform, Stackson Friendship, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Sheriff Stilinski, AU High School, AU Werewolves are known, AU Sports Rivalry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

Notes: n/a

Okay so I can’t find any memes just yet I want to reblog on her but my muse is screaming so like this post for a starter from XI’s Missy. She’s @bananasbadgirl (my sideblog). If you have previously asked for one but didn’t receive, please check for your tag on her blog as I believe I did one for everyone who asked last time. Please also be warned that she’s not had any of the experiences of the show’s Missy so she’s spoiler-free and unhinged in different ways. I will do my best to get these done as soon as I can but I’m in the middle of a slow house-move and I want to do what I can to give you a fun starter to set the scene. Thanks loves, and looking forward to threading!

P.S. Extra note. This Missy currently has Rassilon’s Gauntlet so she’s got the potential to be a pain in the bum with her power but I’ll ask you to trust me and you can certainly get revenge later on when she doesn’t have it.

The thing is that both the social order and the religious order depended on the imposition of law. The only alternative that could be envisaged was chaos. And Jesus posed a threat to both the political and the religious establishment because he proposed what he claimed was a third possibility: neither domination nor chaos but love. Now this, to the unsentimental eye, is evidently rubbish – unless you have a very special kind of love available. To attempt to sustain an even slightly human society on the kind of thing that we ordinarily know as love is ridiculous and also almost certainly dishonest. People who want to get rid of laws and substitute love are quite often people who find illegal domination easier than using law. What was special about Jesus was not that he produced the theory that people might live by love – that was a tired old theory that had been discredited many times in most people’s experience – but that he produced the love. The kind of relationship that he had with his friends, and the kind of relationship he enabled them to have with each other, was something quite new. Here was something that could be the basis of a third possibility, neither law nor chaos.
—  Fr Herbert McCabe

anonymous asked:

(Adopt anon) They've been using the planning room while Geoff and Jack are out heisting. One day, Ryan is left behind with a mild injury (Mama Jack wont let him go because of it). He's taking a nap when the boys go to plan. When he wakes up, he finds them in the planning room and now Ryan has joined in the heist because how DARE Debra say that about Jack SHE MUST PAY. The lads are pleased to have Ryan's devious experience. They start behaving better for him so he can babysit more and help plan

Damn, if Ryan is involved Debra’s car might end up on fire in the middle of an empty parking lot. And they’re all scrambling to get away, because the cops are totally going to get called, and Gavin is yelling, “You said a lot of sticky bombs.” And Ryan says, “Yeah, this one is one me.”

But none of them get caught (or in trouble for that matter) though there is a ban on sticky bounds for a while after that (mostly because Jack is afraid Gavin might blow off his leg or something).

OR Debra wakes up to flashing light coming from her living room and she rushes out of her bedroom to find fireworks exploding all over the room. And she screams, locking herself in the bathroom, while the lads and Ryan watch from across the street.

I feel there’d be more explosions with Ryan involved. A room full of fake blood, probably. Like Debra’s master bathtub just covered in fake blood and she actually thinks somebody was murdered but the cops test it and it’s just corn syrup.

Ryan’s devious mind with Gavin’s devious mind would be an amazing match up because Gavin learned from the best.

anonymous asked:

Hey ah, I was just wondering how old you are? I saw your post about being a virgin and it made me feel a little less like a complete freak because I'm still 23 and never even been in a relationship let alone sex (I'd like to.. it's just I'm shy, no one's asked me boo hoo etc)

oh i’m younger, I’m 18! but I I’ve heard of and have known plenty of people in their 20s that don’t have any relationship or sexual experience either! it’s totally okay, and there’s nothing freaky about it x 

anonymous asked:

I didnt really like some episodes of AHL personally because some of their mentors were really rude to them. I know they did it so BTS could learn, but BTS BARELY knew English then and probably didn't understand them half the time so yelling at them to do stuff didn't help and probably made them feel terrible. Cough cough @Coolio

Well I mean yeah…it was part of the experience… That’s just how it was I guess. They didn’t want to sugar coat it. i dunno

anonymous asked:

hey i saw you're thing the art thing and was just wondering if you know anything else about not feeling real?? because i've been feeling that way for a while and i don't know anyone else who feels that way xx

hey, i’m sorry to hear that you experience this. there’s a lot of different things that can cause it. if you feel like your surroundings aren’t real then it’s derealization, & if you feel like your identity/self isn’t real then it’s depersonalization. it can be an anxiety symptom, like in response to intrusive thoughts or stress or trauma. so sometimes if you deal w/ the underlying cause of your anxiety, things can start to feel more “real” again