guess i know not to friend my mom's best friend on facebook anymore

Okay, I’ve done it again. I just can’t help myself. I don’t know what’s going on with me but Yousana has really stolen my heart and I have so many feelings and the only way I can deal with them is writing even though I’m not a writer at all, like I know I’m not really good. It helps that you are all being so amazingly kind to me, you’re inspiring me.

This time I decided to focus more in Yousef, especially his relationship with Elias. I guess you could say Elias is the real mvp of this fic. 

Again, like I said before, please know that this is written with all my respect for the muslim religion. I would never dare to be disrespectful towards any of you. And if you feel like this somehow disrepects you please let me know and I’ll erase it because the last thing I know is to upset any of you. 

This is just me trying to cope with my feelings after yesterday’s clip.

I hope you like it, those of you who take the time to read it.

She still hadn’t answered. Almost 24 hours later and she still hadn’t answered. As soon as he had sent that text he knew that everything was about to change. He had tried to avoid the issue since they had started texting but when she told him that she would try to make her mom believe that he was a good muslim he knew he had to tell the truth. She deserved to know, even if it meant that things between them would be over before even starting.

He hadn’t seen her since last night either. Any other Saturday he would’ve been at the Bakkoush’s with Elias and the rest of the squad but he had managed to convince everyone to go to his house instead. He knew that he needed to keep his distance from Sana, at least until she’d decide to talk to him. It was her choice now and he would respect it whatever it was.

 That didn’t mean that he didn’t have hope that she still would answer him. He had spent the day checking his phone every five minutes, his heart beating faster and faster every time it beeped with a message. He would unblocked his screen with trembling hands only to have his heart broken again each time he’d find that the text he had just received wasn’t from Sana, but from his mom or some other acquaintance.

 This, of course, hadn’t gone unnoticed by his best friend, Elias. He knew something was bugging him but he also knew that Yousef didn’t like to share his feelings with other people so he waited till the rest of the boys had left to talk about it.

 Yousef was still looking at his phone when Elias approached him.

 “Okay dude, what’s going on with you?”

Yousef looked at his friend who was standing in front of him with a concerned look on his face.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Yousef, it’s me, you can try to pretend that you’re cool with the others but not with me. I know something’s going on with you since yesterday and I want to know what so I can help you”

“I’m telling you Elias, I’m fine”

“And I’m telling you, I don’t buy it”

“Whatever” Yousef said standing up from the couch and walking by Elias.

“Does this have something to do with my sister?”Elias said making Yousef stop dead on his tracks.

He slowly turned around to look at Elias in shock. He wished he hadn’t heard well, he wished his friend hadn’t just said what he thought he had. He couldn’t know.

“I’m going to ask you this once, just once Yousef and I really hope you answer me with the truth. What’s going on between you and my sister? And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I don’t believe it. I’m not stupid.”

“Nothing is going on…”

“Yousef.”

“…anymore. Nothing is going on anymore” The truth of his words made Yousef want to cry. Because that was it. Nothing was going, not anymore.

“What do you mean by that? What happened between you two?”

“I screwed up Elias, I screwed up big time” he took a deep breath trying to keep the tears away just like he had been doing the whole day.

“Okay, okay Yousef, relax. Take it easy” Elias said when he saw the state his friends was in “Come here, sit and tell me everything”

“You’re going to hate me” Yousef said but he obeyed his friend and sat on the couch next to him.

“Yousef, I’m trying really hard to stay calm, it’s my sister who you’re talking about. But you’re my best friend and I’m willing to listen to you so please, just be honest and tell me what’s going on”

“I like Sana, Elias. I like her a lot” he said with a huge sigh.

“Okay that I already knew. I mean do you think I don’t see the way you look at each other? And I know yesterday you took the blame for her, not for me.”

“Yesterday…”

“Wait, is that what this is about? Do you think what? That my parents will give you a hard time or something?”

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s not that” he took a deep breath before continuing “After we left the house yesterday, she texted me”

“You text each other…”Elias said raising his eyebrows

“It’s really new, I added her on facebook last week and we started talking about random things, I honestly just wanted to make her laugh”

“So when I said that you two were flirting in the kitchen that day I was right, you were”

Yousef only looked at his friend not really knowing what to say.

“Okay, okay, I’m not judging, I’m not judging, continue. She texted you last night. What did she say?”

“She said…” he covered his face with his hands trying to gain strength to continue “She said she would convince your mom that I’m a good muslim even though I drink vodka” he mumble between his hands.

“But…Yousef, you’re not…I mean you don’t…”

Yousef looked at his friend and bit his bottom lip while nodding.

“I know…and now she knows too. I told her the truth yesterday and she hasn’t answered since and to be honest that doesn’t surprise me. Go on, yell at me, tell me how I shouldn’t have approached her in the first place when I knew what would happen, even punch me if you want, I deserve it”

“I’m not going to punch you, you dickhead”

“I should’ve told her sooner, I know I should’ve told her. I just…it felt so good to talk to her. I thought…I thought that maybe if I waited a little bit longer she and I would connect you know? Like really connect and that eventually when I would tell her, we would find a way to work things out. But yesterday, I couldn’t just lie to her, it’s one thing not to tell the truth and another to lie. And to think that I’ve put so much effort in trying to get her to like me and now…she and me, it’s impossible. And don’t tell me it’s not because you know it is”

“I’m not going to tell you it’s not impossible, Yousef”

Yousef’s heart broke a little more because as much as he was trying to convince himself, deep down he wanted to hear his friend giving him some hope.

“But I’m not going to tell you that it is impossible either” Elias continued “Because it’s not my call. It’s hers and it’s yours. If you want my opinion, all I can tell you is that I can’t think of someone better for my sister than you, you’re my best friend and the nicest guy I know and I want the best for my little sister. And yes, I would’ve preferred if you had told her sooner because you knew how much her faith means to her. But again, it’s not my decision. It’s between you and her.”

 He had spent the whole day trying to keep the tears away but right now Yousef couldn’t help but let some roll down his face.

“She won’t talk to me Elias, you know that.”

“Maybe not now, but give her time. It’s a lot to process.”

“I don’t even know if she liked me back or if it was all in my head”

“Believe me, she likes you, I know my sister, I know the way she looks at you. She likes you but you have to give her time and space so she can think about what she wants. Just don’t give up on her yet. Let her come to you when she’s ready to talk and whatever decision you two make it’ll be the best for you whether it is moving forward or stop everything at all.”

Yousef nodded while wiping away the tears from his face.

“Thank you. Seriously Elias, I needed this.”

“That’s what friends are for”

 —————————————————————————

Sana? Are you in there?” Elias said knocking at his sister’s door. “Come on sis, let me in”

“What do you want Elias?” She said opening the door and letting him in.

She was a having a hell of a day and she didn’t want to listen to his brother, she knew he was probably there to lecture her about the party from last night.

“I’ve talked to him Sana, I’ve talked to Yousef”

Sana froze in the place. She had been holding the tears for so long, trying to be strong but she couldn’t take it anymore. It started slowly, only a couple of tears but as they continue rolling down her face she couldn’t help but continue crying until it turn into a uncontrollable sob.

“Come here” Elias said pulling her in a hug.

She didn’t remember the last time she had hugged his brother but right now it was all she needed so she let him.

“What am I going to do?” She mumbled against Elias’ shirt.

“You don’t have to do anything. Not right now. You can take all the time you need to think. It’s up to you Sana, no one is going to judge you whatever you decide”

He felt her nod but he didn’t let go. Instead he hugged her tighter and rested his chin above her head.

“It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay” he whispered, and he sure wished it was the truth. 


Okay, this is it. Again I’m sorry this is too long. And I hope this doesn’t upset anyone in any way. 

Thank you so so much for reading it means the world to me.

I hope you like it and it’s okay if you don’t.

Also sorry for the grammar english is not my first language and I suck at descriptions.

Thank you again!

unfit to be anyone's best friend

I recently made a startling discovery. I brought together two of my favorite friends at my home, almost immediately I witness two people come together like I have never seen anyone come to together before. They talked like they had known each other their whole life, they had the exact same humor, it was as if they shared the same consciousness, they throw talking point back and forth to each other effortlessly. Truly, it was like watching a real gem fusion come to life. It was as if I was not even there, they were perfectly in tune with each other.

One part of me is immensely happy about this. These friends of mine deserved more and better friends. Where the only huge problems in my life were my father leaving my mother for another woman, being bullied for many years in school and anxiety getting in the way of my development as a human being, these friends of mine has had it worse when me. I wanted so deeply to help, to fix their situation (I am a programmer/developer you see, we obsess over “fixing” things), but I always fell short in this regard. I believe through their friendship they might be able to provide the corrective experience I was never able to supply them, and that would be the most wonderful of all gifts.

However, another part of me made a realization that I was not prepared to have. I realized after witnessing their natural connection that I want that, I need that, I need that kind of connection with another human being. Up until that point, I thought my connection with the two of them was pretty good and that was at least among their best friends. But after my discovery, I realized my connection with them paled in comparison to the one between the two. I released in comparison to either one of them I was ill-fitting to meet the needs of either one of them, and therefore a poor man’s choice of best friend.

I am a quiet introvert that likes to learn new things, better myself, create stuff, and generally live in my head. I, however, do like people (though they have been scary for most of my life because my anxiety), and I have met quite a lot of people throughout my life. I have met a lot of wonderful people at school, at work and at cons where I have volunteered. Many of these people I really like I have befriended on facebook or follow on tumblr, just to remind myself of all the marvelous men and women I have met. The disappointing thing though, is that despite meeting so many, I have failed to truly connect with all of them.

Why am I such a failure at connecting with people? I am not sure. I am not a psychologist, I just have a hobbyist interest in psychology. If I were to be Freudian about it, I guess maybe I always tried to be the man in the household, consisting of me the youngest, my sister and my mom. I really look up to male role models as a child, and as an adult, I favor strong women with male qualities (think Jasper from Steven Universe). I always tried to be independent and emotionally strong (which was really hard because of the anxiety, to be honest, I was a crybaby as young). I thought if I could fight my way up to be independent I would be gain everything I dreamed of sooner or later (connection, success, love).

Obviously, I was dead wrong. I might have a job and I am going to move out soon, but I am not anyone’s best friend, and I am 27 fucking years old. Heck, the way this is going, I would not be surprised if it turns out I am unfit to be anyone’s partner too.

Why am sharing this? My current theory is that it is my try to be independence that has fucked me over. According to Brene Brown and her book “Daring Greatly”, the only true way to connect with someone is to be vulnerable and this is my try at doing just that. From now on I will scream my vulnerability and my needs as loud as my lungs can muster, hoping that someday one person in this world will respond to me in kind and connect with me. I will do this despite knowing being deemed needy is looked down upon. Sorry peeps, I can afford to waste time wearing this stupid mask anymore.

part i | part ii

part iii: in which there is a first strike

“Maybe she doesn’t have Facebook?” Naruto suggested.

Sasuke snorted. “She’s twenty-two. Of course she has Facebook. Also, you can’t use Tinder without Facebook, but I’m sure you know that since, you know, you’re the one who made my account.”

Naruto rolled his eyes. He chewed on the straw of his frappucino. “You keep bitching about that but here we are trying to find the love of your life—”

“Don’t call her that.”

“—because you found her on Tinder.” Naruto looked frustratingly smug. “So that being said, shut the hell up. And really, it’s possible Tinder Girl just doesn’t have Facebook anymore because it’s time for midterms?”

Sasuke considered this for a moment. Naruto had a point. He knew Suigetsu, for example, always deleted his Facebook account during exams because he was always more interested in stalking people than actually getting his work done.

“But…” Sasuke wanted to bash his head against the wall. He settled for doing so on the edge of their table at KU Café. “She was on Tinder last night. This means she had to have deleted her Facebook between last night and right now.”

“It’s possible.”

“It’s stupid.”

Keep reading

Coming out

For the longest time I did not want to accept that I was gay. I prayed and prayed to God that it wasn’t true and that if it was true, to make me straight. When I realized that God couldn’t do anything for me, I hoped and hoped that I was at least bisexual. I thought that if I had feelings for girls too I would be able to suppress my homosexuality, find a girl, marry her, have kids, and live a long and normal life. My backup plan, if i never found a girl, was to live alone with a bunch of pets for the rest of my life. Why not? I love pets, they’ll keep me from feeling alone and unloved, right? This was essentially my plan all through high school.

First year of university (December 2011) is when I truly accepted that I was gay and all of the consequences that came with it. What made me come to terms with it was the movie Prayers for Bobby and it hit me like a freight train. The negative emotions that ran through my body were like wild fire. The more and more I tried to suppress them with happy thoughts, the worse and worse they got. I pretty much spent an entire week bawling. I didn’t sleep. I was devastated. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to hide it anymore. This is when I told my very good friend from South Africa. I felt like the distance between made it less awkward and I desperately needed someone to talk to. She was extremely helpful and pushed me to experience the gay life. I spent the next year basically trying to plan the best way to tell my family.

July 2013 i downloaded Grindr for curiosity’s sake. I wanted to see what the gay community looked like and I also was curious to see if i knew anyone on it. Many guys messaged me but I was too new to the whole thing, I wasn’t out to my parents, and I was terrified. One guy messaged me who went to the same high school as me but was a grade below. We had a couple mutual friends so I felt like it’d be safe to go out with this guy so I said yes. I told my mom I was going to a friend’s house, he picked me up and then we walked along the beach and talked. The next day I had a doctors appointment and on the way home, while my mom was driving, i said “so … i went on a date last night … with a guy.” She looked at me, looked at the road, and then looked back at me, “are you telling me you’re gay?” I affirmed and then she proceeded to ask me about him, his name, his age, his ethnicity, his area of study, etc… and then asked if I enjoyed the date. She then told me that she doesn’t care and that she loves me no matter what. 

A few days passed and she said that we needed to talk about it. She had a million questions including “How do you know you’re gay if you never had sex with a girl?” So I asked her if she had sex with a girl, she said no. So I said “then how do you know you’re straight?” She then proceeded to make comments like “no wonder you like disney so much” and “so i guess Emily isn’t your girlfriend.” She also told me that she was saddened by the fact that my friends knew before she did. She wanted me to feel like i could trust her. She then said we would need to talk about it again once she lets her head settle some more. 

The next time we talked she told me that she had seen a therapist a few times about it. Not because she had a problem with it but because she wanted to make sure that she was handling it in the right way and wanted to make sure that I wasn’t suicidal (she was starting to make it a much bigger deal than I wanted). I asked her to tell the rest of the family because I didn’t want to have an awkward talk with each of them. She agreed but said we wouldn’t tell my brother because he’s a bit of a homophobe and she doesn’t know how he’ll react (especially because of the many hunting knives and rifles he has in the house, ha ha). 

So my mom told my sister. My sister told me that she was very sad because I would have to face a difficult life. She said she was embarrassed because she had been facebook stalking my best friend (who she thought I was dating). She also then wanted to know my type of guy. Now-a-days she hates that I’m colour blind and have no fashion sense because I can’t help her with clothes like a “gay brother is supposed to do.” My relationship with my sister has honestly much improved since I came out. 

My mom then told my dad when they went out for dinner. He basically said that it’s unfortunate because I will have to face extra challenges and that he suspected I was anyway. That’s all I know from my dad. He does not talk about feelings or relationships or sex or anything whether its straight or gay. I honestly feel like it bothers him but in truth I have no idea. 

So I think that pretty much sums everything up. I apologize for the spelling and grammatical errors if you find any. 

anonymous asked:

best friends when we were young and then you moved and now we meet again at college AU

“Sorry, man,” Stiles straightens up still laughing at the joke Scott had told that had gotten him throwing his head back and jerking into someone behind him. He claps down on a nice, broad shoulder, and then feels his eyes widen as the figure turns around. 

“Derek?”

“Stiles?”

“Dude!” Stiles laughs delightedly as Derek Hale frowns across at him. “It’s been too long!”

Ten years, maybe, since Derek’s parents upped and moved Stiles’ best friend across the country. He’d been inconsolable for months, written to Derek often for a couple of years, until Derek’s letters had started sounding distracted and distant. They haven’t spoken since. They’re not even Facebook friends— which is a damn shame because Jesus, Derek’s grown up hot

“You look good,” he tells Derek, flicks at one of Derek’s ears fondly, “Grew into these I see.”

Keep reading

I’ve been quite out of it these past couple of days but now I feel more like myself and I need to put everything down. So here it goes, The Paris Attacks. How I lived that night and the day(s) that followed.

I live in Paris. I woke up on Friday the 13th feeling good and actually happy. It was World’s Kindness Day and I had had one of the best nights of my life. I spent the day on a cloud, being carefree and giggling like a 13 year old.

I was supposed to meet a friend at a theater at 8pm, but he ran a bit late and we couldn’t get tickets. The theater was over-crowded. We got tickets for the 9pm showing instead, and went to grab a beer. We sat outside, and talked, laughed, reinvented the world for an hour. Then we went back to the theater. Sat down. Turned our phones off.

45 minutes into the movie, I saw people suddenly getting up, almost running out of the room, their phones glued to their ears. I thought “c’mon, the movie is pretty shitty, but you paid 10€ to see it, the fuck are you doing leaving not even half way through it?!”. Waited 10 more minutes. More people were getting up, phone clutched in hand. I started having a bad feeling.

So I turned my phone on. It blew up with notifications. Missed calls, texts, voice mails, you have it. I quickly scrolled through them.

“why aren’t you picking up your fucking phone??? WHERE ARE YOU?”.

“tell me you’re safe at home”

“Tell me you’re not anywhere near the shootings??????”

“Wherever you are, DON’T MOVE”

“Just tell me that you’re okay I don’t know where you are!”

“I’m feeling scared, can I call you?”

“PICK UP THE PHONE”

“Hun there’s been several attacks, I know you’re at the theater so don’t get out of there and stay put”

“Your phone goes straight to voice mail, tell me you’re at home please!”

“Bombs and shooting all over Paris, where are you?”

I remember feeling cold, thinking “not again please please please not again” and gripping my friend’s arm. Started reading him some of the messages. The guy on my other side told me to shut up, he couldn’t hear the movie. I looked at the screen and James Bond was blowing shit up, guns being fired all over the screen. I thought “this is unreal”. I tried to look up the news on my phone but I couldn’t get a signal strong enough in the theater.

Then my phone rang. My Mom. I ran out of the room on shaky legs. There were people outside on their phones, running their hands through their hair. I told my Mom I was safe, that nothing was happening where I was, that she could go to bed and that I would let her know when I was home safe.

Truth is, I had no idea what was exactly going on. I didn’t know if I could even get home. I don’t remember hanging up but I remember shaking and having difficulties breathing. Not being able to type properly to answer my friends’ texts. I think there was an announcement at some point in the theater, telling us that it was safer to stay inside  than trying to go home. I remember the fear, the worry, the distress, the not-quite panic, not yet. All we knew is that they were targeting public places and that we were in one of the biggest cinemas in Paris, full of people.

After a while we got outside. We just wanted to get behind closed doors. Our closed doors. There were rumors that there was a shooting going on in Les Halles and another one on the Trocadero. I live on the Troca and had to go through Les Halles to get there. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t get to my safe place.

My friend told me we would get to his place, which was closer, and stay there for the night. We took the metro, which was miraculously still running. It was so empty. There was a woman, who looked completely haggard. 3 young men, joking and shoving at each other “DUUUUDE we were near the Bataclan just earlier, it so could’ve been us, maaaan”.

We got out of the metro and ran. There were people yelling at us from their windows. Telling us to get inside, asking if we had somewhere to go, shouting the code of their buildings. There were sirens screaming through the night, flashing blue lights speeding near us in a blur. I more or less remember calling my best friend, telling her I was okay, thanking whoever might be listening that she lived far far away from Paris. I got a notification from Facebook asking me if I was safe. I remember laughing. The kind of nervous laugh that takes you by surprise. No, I don’t know, am I? I’m still on the streets, where are they?

We finally got to my friend’s place and we collapsed in each other’s arms. He turned on the TV and that’s when we really realized. The anchor man was saying that the president had spoken earlier, that the state of emergency had been declared. What does that even mean? Hadn’t the last state of emergency been declared during the Algerian War? War is such a scary word.

I started shooting texts to friends I hadn’t heard of yet. Called my Mom again. Another friend who was home and scared. Before I knew it, my phone died on me. I had no way to contact the couple of friends who hadn’t replied yet. The one who lives near the Bataclan. The girl from my class who was celebrating her 25th birthday in a bar in the 10th arrondissement. I later learned that she spent 2 hours face down on the floor, in silence and in the dark, waiting for the all clear.

So we watched the news and waited. Waited for the assault on the Bataclan to be over. Waited for the sirens outside to stop – they didn’t. When nothing could be done anymore besides watching the number of the dead go up and up and up, we curled up on te couch with a blanket and watched a movie. The Empire Strikes Back. Something we knew and loved. I guess I fell asleep at some point, thinking that I couldn’t fathom how my day could have started so well and ended so wrong.

I woke up on Saturday morning and switched the TV on again. Watched it in a near catatonic state for hours. It was always the same thing. The same videos. The same arguments. Only the death toll was changing.

Around noon I decided to go home, if only to get my charger for my phone. The streets were eerily quiet. I saw heavily armed cops walking around. I saw a child running around and playing with a small dog on a playground. It made me smile. Life was still going.

I sat in front of a lady in the metro. She nodded at me and asked if I was okay. We usually don’t do that. We usually avoid everyone’s gaze in the metro. But it felt good. She gave me strength.

Outside, the streets were still empty. I had never seen the Trocadero and the areas surrounding the Eiffel Tower so deserted. I hurried home, shut the door behind me and cried. My safe place, fucking finally.

I got online. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr. I saw so much support, I saw how much help was being offered, how much empathy. People all over the world sending well wishes. Images of Parisians queuing to give their blood, being sent home because the banks were already full. The hashtag #VoyageAvecMoi going strong, for POC and Muslims who were scared of taking public transports alone. It helped so much. It gave me hope, and it made me proud.

But I also saw stuff like “well now white people know what it feels like!” “French people should be ashamed! Look at all the support thrown their way when nobody is talking about Beirut/Baghdad/Japan/You name it!” “Don’t #Pray/StandForParis, #Pray/StandForTheWorld! Paris had it better than others!”

Do you have you any idea what it feels like to read this? I should be ashamed? I had it better? I’m white so it’s a sort of righteous retribution? Do those people not realize what they are saying? Is it my fault how the media responded? I’m generally-speaking all for #StandForTheWorld. We all should thrive towards peace for every single person on this planet. But right now, that night, #StandForParis was the #BlackLivesMatter of #AllLivesMatter. That night, that terrible, horrifying night, all we could think of was ourselves. And that’s not selfishness. That’s what terror does to you. Seeing #StandForParis meant that we, Parisians, were not alone. That people cared about us, about our city, about our home. Yes, Paris is mostly a white city, in a rich country, but how does that make the people living there monsters whose pain should be undermined? There is no fairness in terrorism.

We didn’t ask for any of this. Innocent people were killed. In January, they attacked a symbol. It hurt, it did. It hurt our values, what France stands for. But it didn’t feel the same. On Friday, they attacked us. The people. People who were enjoying themselves, going to a football game, to a concert, on a date, eating at a restaurant, drinking a beer, celebrating their fucking birthdays. Carefree, utterly innocent people. It could have been me. I was outside at a bar that evening, I was in a very public space, I was just like those people who died for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course I feel more strongly for what’s happening just where I live. But don’t tell me I should be ashamed of myself for embracing the support thrown my way. I didn’t ask for the attacks, I didn’t ask for the support, but I still got both. I, a 23 year old student, didn’t ask officials over the world to light up their most famous buildings with the colors of the French flag. But they did. And I’m thankful. Does that mean that I don’t care about what’s happening elsewhere? No. Does that mean that I don’t feel like the international response is way more overwhelming for France than it is and has been for other countries? No. Does this prove once again that geopolitics govern the world? Yeah. Is it unfair that 130 dead in Paris makes a lot more noise than 400 in Syria or Irak? Yes. But is it right to dismiss French people’s grief and spit at us for being thankful? Definitely not. Let us mourn, let us grieve. Let us bury our dead. There will be time later for analysis.

We’re scared. Some claim they aren’t. Good for them, I’m impressed. I know I will be for a while. Not being scared after that night is unthinkable for me. It doesn’t make me a coward. I might be scared, but I’m not going to stop living. I’ll still go out with my friends. I’ll still take walks along the river Seine banks and I’ll still bitch about twisting my ankles on the cobblestones. I’ll still get excited about the smell of chocolate croissants and complain about the price. I’ll still look at the Eiffel Tower at night and think “ Ça a quand même de la gueule.” Paris is still beautiful, and I’m still alive.

FLUCTUAT NEC MERGITUR

'Chance Meeting'

requested by anonymous

summary: Michael and I had been such good friends when we were kids, moving had changed everything; now things were changing again

warning: extremely fluffy, i think you guys will like this

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anonymous asked:

I am going to kill myself

Hey. Listen. 

            I want you to know you are not alone. You are not the only one experiencing these thoughts and pains. So even when you feel all alone and hurt, there are people who are probably very close to you that have depression, and they may experience the same things you are. Depression is a scary thing, and while there are times it feels like things will never get better, they will. I know that’s pretty cheesy and you’ve heard it before, but things really DO get better. It won’t happen in a day, week, or even in a month, but I promise you, that first day when you truly feel happy is worth every ounce of pain you’ve felt in the past.

           When I was little, I always had worries. I didn’t know if I was a good child, and if I was being too mean to my sister, stuff like that. It wasn’t until 8th grade when my depression fully hit. I didn’t feel like I was worth anything. It got better during high school, until my junior year. Sadly, my depression was triggered by a boy, and well, it all went downhill pretty quickly. I won’t go into details, but he really learned how to trigger my depression. I wouldn’t eat, and I got pretty skinny. I never felt like getting out of bed. I remember talking to a therapist, saying with a monotone voice that I didn’t feel the need to live anymore, and her mouth dropped. I remember going to school, and coming home to sleep, because that was the only way I could escape this scary thing called depression. One night in November, I decided I wanted to run away. My parents are pretty strict and this was the same time I went through a pretty rebellious phase. They caught me at the doorway, and I pushed my mother. I overheard them say they wanted to take me to the hospital, so I went upstairs to say goodbye to my sister. My parents heard this, and automatically thought that I was going to kill myself on the spot, which wasn’t the case. I didn’t have a plan to kill myself, I just wanted to run away from my problems. I got to the hospital, and they put me in these ugly green scrubs. I remember laughing at the socks because they had those little rubber bottoms, so you didn’t slip. Then a nurse came in. The guy was so accusing, when I told him I had never cut myself, he made me stick out my arms. He was surprised when there were no scars. I hated it. Thankfully I left that night, but I knew I didn’t ever want to go back.

           Then winter hit, and I was feeling worse. My friend and I talked about killing ourselves. I don’t know if I ever wanted to go through with it. That same week, one of my best friend’s mother died of cancer, and it hit me: life is precious. I wanted to take away something that my friend’s mother didn’t have the choice. I wanted to die, while she was fighting to live. Something changed me, and I knew I had to fight through this. My friend didn’t need the pain of losing another loved one, and I shouldn’t kill myself when I still haven’t seen the amazing things to see, such as the Eiffel tower, or hopefully getting married one day. I think I will die when my body is ready to let go, and after I have seen and done everything on me bucket list.

           Let me talk about my best friend Lauren. She lives in Arizona, and I live in Minnesota, so it was hard to talk to her every day. Her depression was really bad my sophomore year, and I was getting sick of her texting me almost every day about how sad she was. It was exhausting trying to comfort her and make her feel better when all I could do is try to help her with words. I wish I was able to be there physically, and give her the hugs and love she needed. Then I noticed she didn’t text me for a week. I wrote on her Facebook wall asking her to text me. What I got was a message from her mother: she had tried to kill herself, and her mom, not knowing what to do, sent her to the hospital for a week.  I went to school the next day, shocked. I remember I had to take a test in math, and right after, I kept thinking about it. My next period was homeroom, and I cried through it. A girl said I was overreacting, and I wanted to slap her so badly. My BEST FRIEND was hurting, and I almost lost her to such an awful thing. Of course, I blamed it on myself, thinking I was the reason she was in there. When I finally got the phone call from her, she was so happy. And I realized that it was good for her to be there. She came out a stronger person. She said it was scary, but she realized that she did matter. And she mattered a whole lot to me. I don’t know what I would do without her, and I’m so glad her mom got to her before she had passed away. Lauren means the world to me, and I love her. She’s like a sister to me.  Whenever she’s down, I always try to remind her that I’m here for her, and I couldn’t imagine life without her, and I won’t. Because she makes me laugh so hard I cry, and that’s the best thing I could ask for.

           Now, I have to say I’m so so so so sorry. People always tell me “oh, depression can’t be that bad, just snap out of it” or, “Everyone gets sad”. I’m sorry if people have tried to tell you these things. I think the worst thing someone told me is “I know where you are coming from”. Um, no, I don’t think so. I wish that I could show people the pain I feel, or what other people feel to from this. But at the same time, I don’t wish it on my worst enemy. I remember reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath my senior year of high school. Sylvia Plath was a poet who suffered from depression, and The Bell Jar was an autobiography she wrote. All of my classmates said the book was so sad, and depressing, and I looked at a friend who also has depression, and we exchanged glances. The book was written just like how we thought, and how it feels to have depression. It was kind of weird to realize that not everyone thinks like I do.

           Alright, this letter has been pretty sad. So let’s make it happy. Depression is something extra you have, but it doesn’t define you. I made the mistake of blaming everything because of my depression. Why didn’t I shower? It’s because I have depression. Why can’t I concentrate? I have depression. I should be sad, because, you guessed it, I have depression. But I’m also kind of lazy, so I might have not showered because I wanted to watch another TV show instead, and I also am diagnosed with ADHD, so sometimes I have trouble concentrating. But you just need to remember, you don’t have to be sad all the time because you have depression. Not even half the time. When I realized this, I felt a whole lot better. I can go weeks, even months, without a panic attack or feeling very, very sad. I never thought it would get better, but somehow, it did. It just takes time. My depression is not gone, and I don’t know if it ever will be. But I try to make the best of each day, and I do need to remind myself that it is okay to be sad sometimes, and that it’s not me, it’s the depression speaking.

             I want to give you some advice I found thoughtful. Workout when you feel sad. Working out gives you lots of endorphins, and that boosts your mood. I recently ran a marathon, and I am so proud. I was happy when I was running, and I did something only 0.01% of the world has done. How cool is that? My friends will tease me, as I ran it super slow (5 hours and 28 minutes, but I had a foot injury), but I just laugh back because they haven’t finished a marathon. Who cares about time when I ran 26.2 miles?! They didn’t get up at 6 AM on Sundays to run. I sacrificed my Saturday nights, which is pretty hard to do as a college kid. But I’m so glad I did it, because I did something worthwhile with my life. And I met my awesome boyfriend from the marathon, who makes me laugh so hard I cry, and when I do cry from sadness, he’s always there to pick me up, literally, I’m a tiny 5’3’’, and he’s 6’1’’. We look pretty silly next to each other, sometimes I have trouble holding his hand because he is so tall.

           My mom is a child psychologist, so I even get advice without leaving my room. It gets annoying, but I’m happy to have it too. One thing my mom taught me is you just have to be stronger than your depression. Anytime you have a sad thought, or a thought that is unrealistic, you have to tell your brain to shut up. Because it’s you that works your brain, not your brain and thoughts that control you. I know that’s hard and weird to think about, but it’s true. If that doesn’t work, take your sadness and anger out on something else, like art. Write a story, paint a picture, and create something amazing out of what you were given.

           But, enough about me.You DO matter in this world. I don’t know you but I would be devastated if you weren’t here. Your family would too, and your friends at school. People you don’t know well would be impacted. That kid that sits in the back of your class, the one you talked to once in your life, would think about you. A lot. He would wonder if he could have helped, if he could have made you laugh, one more time, if he could have made you seem like you mattered. Because, you DO. Someonce cares, and that’s worth fighting this stupid thing called depression.  I want you to message me privately so we can talk. Because Depression is in your head, and I am someone who is real. Who can listen to those dumb things your brain makes you think. I can tell you it is okay, even when you think it’s not. And so I can your family. Because you matter to your family and to me. I’m a complete stranger, but your life matters to me. And it always will. I know you will have an amazing life, and when you have those sad days, that’s okay. Just pull out this letter, or write one to me. Whatever makes you feel better.

           I know this is getting pretty lengthy, but I wanted to reach out to you. I call myself a depression survivor, because it is something you have to fight against. People who suffer or suffered from depression are some of the strongest people I know. And I want to show you that I can live a happy life with it, and so can you. There are so many people who live with this, but are successful as well. Take my mother for instance. She has her PHD is child psychology, as a smart husband who is a CTO, two daughters who are smart, and a wonderful home to live in. If she can make it in this world, so can we. If you ever need someone to talk to, don’t ever hesitate to come to me. I’ll always be here.

Sincerely,

Me. 

I guess the time has come...

I’ve been trying to hold off on doing this for a while, because I just didn’t want to.  But the time has come, so here we go…

I actually found Twisted by mistake and was intrigued by the premise immediately. That’s why I decided to create a blog for the character that stood out the most to me, Lacey Porter.  I fell for Lacey because she had IMO the most realistic response to Danny’s return.  The way Kylie portrayed Lacey made it clear that this was a girl who was soft on the inside, but tough on the outside.  I loved that. There was a pull and push between her childhood friends and her current circle of friends.  That was actually well written in the first half of S1A.  I saw 3 friends who yearned to be together again, despite the circumstances.  The girls’ fight in 1.06 was very realistic.  All three were also very involved in the mystery.  Lacey had her support systems, so much so that while we knew her family was missing, she was still a major part of the show.  

Then the writing took a U turn.  As more episodes aired, the show switched its focus from Danny, the mystery, and his friends, to Jo and everything revolving around her - literally.  There was one episode that I think made us all scratch our heads and literally post…“WTF?”  I don’t know what focus group told the writers to steer the ship in Jo’s direction, but the character of Lacey Porter took a direct hit.  The hits only got worse as the show continued.  

During the hiatus, we tweeted Adam Milch asking for more of Lacey’s story, and her Point of View.  He replied and acknowledged us, and then the show picked up again.  Not only did the character of Lacey Porter get railroaded even further, it was almost as if the writers wanted to assure us that Lacey was no more than a guest star on the show.  We’ve seen fans genuinely ask why we’re upset, that Lacey isn’t a lead so what’s the big deal.  That’s how far removed the show was from its original premise.  Jo was the show, Danny was her sidekick, and Lacey was….well, not even really there.  And how do you begin to wrap your mind around the fact that ROBIN GIVENS was cast as Lacey’s mom, and was only in 2 episodes?  Her name alone brings notoriety, way more than even Denise Richards. Tess even had more of a story than Lacey ever did.  Whitney had more parent time than Lacey ever did.  And well, Jo got everything, didn’t she?  I’m not going to hit on Twisted’s tumblr, IMO they’re fair.  But Twisted’s facebook and twitter are nothing more than pimp machines for Jo Masterson.  If there is any mistaking that Lacey isn’t even a factor on this show, drop by those accounts.  

Message received, loud and clear.  As a result, viewers also sent a message, in terms of ratings.  Twisted didn’t always have good ratings, but it was okay in S1A.  The show ended with 773k viewers.  It has well over 1.6 million viewers at one time.  I am one who tuned out.  After 1.11, I said that I’ll give the show a few episodes to show that the three leads are actually leads, and they showed me that the only lead is Jo Masterson.  I’m a woman of my word…I’m done.

I really believe the writers didn’t anticipate fans falling her Lacey or Dacey the way we did, and they tried to change that.  They wanted us to root for Jo, and Jo only.  They just ended up failing miserably at their jobs, and that’s not on us. If this show gets cancelled, we are not responsible for the show’s failure, they are.  I’m just thrilled that despite having no story of substance, the reviews highlighted Kylie’s portrayal of Lacey Porter.  Even with crappy dialogue, she stood out.  And that’s the best takeaway, by far.

I’d never seen Avan, Kylie or Maddie in anything before, so I’m really new to each and from what I’ve seen, they all seem like great people. I wish them all nothing but the best as they move forward.  

I feel like we’ve all been cheated on what could have been an outstanding show.  I just can’t understand how a show could have started out so well, end ended up so (frankly speaking) stupid.  Even if this show is miraculously renewed, I won’t be watching.  I can’t support shows that deliberately insult the viewers’ intelligence, regardless of who’s in it.  

What will always stand out to me from this ride is the fun we had on Tumblr.  You guys are hilarious.  I can’t tell you all how many times I’ve opened the Dacey tag to end up laughing my ass off, literally!  I’m also glad to be part of a fandom that overwhelming spoke up against the inequality in the writing for Lacey Porter.  We didn’t always agree, but we always had Lacey’s best interest at heart.  Which other fandom for this show can say they had rounds like the Dacey Twisted Challenge, and the Kylie Bunberry Week?  Look at the fanfic writers, and how much creativity they have!  And that’s not even touching on the many real and thought-provoking discussions by brilliant members of this fandom.  No other Twisted fandom did that guys.  We did, consistently. 

Now that the show is all but done, this blog will turn into a Kylie Bunbury fan blog.  I probably won’t officially make the switch until next week, and will announce it when it’s official.  I’ll post updates as they come in about Kylie, and I hope you will all continue to support on that end.

Until then, we may not have Twisted anymore, but I hope to see you all on my dash and/or messages as time goes on.  A special thanks wndrlsts.  Thank you for your kind words in your beautiful goodbye.  That truly means a lot. 💛

This ended up being a lot longer than I had anticipated.  I said all of that just to say….

With 1,100+ followers, 700+ posts, and countless messages back and forth, from the bottom of my heart…😰

 

anonymous asked:

Do you have any advice on High School?

hmm, well this might be a long answer. Just an fyi, I’m twenty years old so I haven’t been in high school for three years. But I had a relatively small class of 1000 at my public school (I know this may not seem like a lot to some, but I guess there are a lot bigger classes at bigger schools) okay, so I guess I’ll share some advice in no particular order that I think of while writing this

1) If you really want to stay friends with the people you enjoy after high school, try EVERYTHING you can to stay in touch (IM on Facebook, email, phone calls, texts, or my personal fav: hand written letters) because once you start going to college or getting jobs or families, so many people just drop off your radar and you drop of their’s. It’s sad when I look at all the fun I had in my classes with my friends and I don’t even talk to them anymore or when I try it’s awkward. SO if you want to stay friends, make the effort to do so.

2) High School seemed such a big drama deal,but after three years, I literally can’t remember pretty much any off it. In fact, I look back and laugh at what I used to stress over or what made me angry or shy. It seems so important now, but I promise you there will be a day that’s it’s all behind you and you can smile at the fun times you remember, other than dwell on the stress and mistakes.

3) Please join a club you like! I loved clubs so much and I’m not sure about you guys, but I used clubs and after school activities to avoid doing chores when I got home, because if I wasn’t home, my brothers had to the chores ^^ Anyway, you get to have fun, you get to laugh, and it gives you a few hours a week to think of nothing but working with the other members and just having blast and doing nothing too stressful.

4) I would suggest talking with your teachers and maybe even being friends with them if you can. I was the student in the front row in class trying my best to get an A or a B in everything. But sometimes I would come across a question or a concept that I just couldn’t understand. So when I came in for extra help during lunch or after school with the intention of relearning the material I didn’t understand, the teacher usually appreciates and sees the extra effort you’re taking. Sometimes they even gave me an extra day to complete it if I was really struggling. They are the ones responsible for you grades and understanding. Talk to them if you need help on any concept!

5) If you miss school for a couple days in a row (I got sick a lot!) don’t just show up at school when your better and ask the teacher what you missed. Email them the day you know you’re not going to be in school for the next couple of days. Make sure you have a friend in class that can make you a copy of notes or tell about what happened. If you don’t know anyone in your class, ask the teacher if they could ask someone to write notes for you. DO NOT GET BEHIND. I know when you’re sick or going through a hard time, it’s hard to focus on school work, but when I was taking a language course or a math or science class, when everyday presents new material, it’s very easy to get far behind your other classmates and they might find it hard to catch you up if you wait too long.

6) That being said, know when to stay at home and when to go to school. If you obviously have a fever, or other signs of sickness (or for the ladies, if you have very, VERY bad cramps from you period), stay home! If the same symptoms last for three days, go to a doctor and get a doctor’s note. But if you just didn’t get enough sleep the night before, or “feel the sniffles” or just feel like skipping, DON’T. It’s not worth it. GO to class and learn. Don’t be lazy.

7) If you don’t take a gym class, try to find the time to do some kind of exercise that involves making you sweat for 30min. I didn’t take gym after my freshman year because my schedule couldn’t fit it and I got it wavered. My mistake was not keeping up with fitness. Please try, though. This applies to anyone who is an adult as well!

8) Have someone you can vent to. For this it was my mom, but I know there are people who can’t really trust a friend or family member enough to vent all their frustrations on without being judged. If you need a person like that, please feel free to message me (either via ask or private message!) If you’re on anon, I can try my best to answer you, but please know your answer will be made public. If you message me not on anon, I won’t judge and I will answer you privately unless you state otherwise. It helps to vent your stuff sometimes, and I’m a great listener!

9) Don’t feel pressured to buy fancy dress for prom/dances or even new expensive clothes that you see other kids wearing. Some kid’s parents have money. If you’re like my family, with me and my three brothers, there was never enough money to buy new clothes. My favorite part every September was going thrift shopping! I loved the clothes I wore and if you wear them with confidence, no one’s going to know they were used!

10) Never put off your homework for the last day/last hour! I know this can be hard for you procrastinators (myself included) but remember what I said about talking to your teachers and getting help? Yeah, kinda hard to do that after it’s due. Because there will be a time when you wait to do it and there will be a time when you cannot for the life of you answer a question or write a certain part of an essay without getting stuck. Trust me, it’s always easiest to get it done earlier (if a multiple day project, I try to aim to get it done two days before deadline, if just homework, try to get it done before 9pm) so if you have questions you can ask your classmates or your teacher with time to change it before it’s due.

11) Never skip test/quiz day. Just don’t.

12) Unless you absolutely know you’ve met your soulmate (and trust me, I have a pair of friends that did and they’re the happiest couples on the planet it seems.) DO NOT think the world is ending if you break up. Also, please don’t say “I love you” lightly. Those words have power. They’re a promise. When you’re in high school, it’s hard to know the actual meaning of these words. They seem simple enough and they can seem very easy to say. But remember what they actually mean and the promise of eternal love they carry before you decide to say them, please. I didn’t learn this message until last year and I want to try to let you guys know before you give out your heart on empty words and empty promises. “I love you” is not something you just say when you date for a long time, or something said at the end of a text/phone call. It’s a promise to stay with you forever, through thick and thin. Please remember that.

…that’s what I’ve got for now. My mind’s drawing a total blank.

Selene - Key

I never really wrote this to post it. It was one of those things I just wrote to get some of my own anger and mental clutter off of my chest.

This is an old story; I wrote it last year. A lot of what’s in it doesn’t really even apply anymore. I just really needed to go ahead and push this out because I needed the weight of it out of my life.

“I don’t blame you for taking me for granted, for forgetting about me, because it’s happened with many people along the way. I guess this all just hurts because it’s you, and I never thought you’d join them.”

“Good morning, my love.”He sends a text, and you just sort of stare at the screen. It’s been weeks. Weeks and you know he’s been busy, but you just… “I’m sorry it’s been so long. I was on vacation with my family. Ugh. You know how that is. 10/10 would not recommend.”

You can tell that he’s trying to play off like nothing’s happening, like there’s no rift between the two of you. Like he’s still here, like he’s never left, like he’s never disappeared. And that hurts. You want to roll your eyes and throw your phone away, you don’t want to answer him. But at the same time, after nearly eight years… 

Keep reading

Under the cut you will find a MASSIVE MASTERLIST of potential post/gif starters (and also some comebacks that could be used in an already pending conversation) in case you’re in need of some. They were all found around the Internet, so I don’t have a direct link where I found them. So the credit goes to whoever came up with them. None of these are sorted out by gender, and they’re neither carved out for any specific characters, just so you know, but feel free to use or edit them as you like.

The masterlist will most likely be updated whenever I find more sentences for potential starters, but please like or reblog this post if you find this helpful.

Keep reading

Sponge

My nickname in high school was Sponge. That’s me. Sponge as a cheesesteak for halloween 2009. 

Not sponge as in Spongebob “use my nose as a part-time flute” Squarepants… Perhaps I was a Sponge in the way that I regurgitate geography facts, or better yet, the way bread is used as a sponge to soak up sauce you’re not allowed to indecorously lick off your plate. My parents always thought it had a negative connotation, and when I relay the Sponge factor to new acquaintances, the pose the same question – who wants to be called that

Sponge came about my junior year of high school, the year I started to become “cool” or whatever. That doesn’t mean popular. I wasn’t one of those kids whose parents let us play beer pong, get trashed and give each other blowjobs. That’s what all the popular kids were doing according to trashy Facebook photos. Honestly, that’s all they still seem to do, except now it’s legal. It’s still trashy. 

I just felt like I was not… disliked anymore. And that was a relief. 

I went around that first day of 11th grade, to a whole new crop of teachers who hadn’t yet been tested with overly ethnic names. Unfortunately, my neighborhood, formerly home to a catastrophically large marijuana ring as well as Kobe Bryant’s high school (not my high school), was not as famous for its diversity. Hell, I was convinced I was white for the first 16 years of my life. Who knew that taking the SATs could bring about such a seismic identity shift?

The Day: I went in to each classroom, took a seat, and slowly the teacher would go through the names, the beautiful smattering of Waspy, Jewy, and other white people names. 

TEACHER: “James Butler, ok. Aileen Caldwell, sure. Kaitlyn Cohen, why not? And… uh…. Um………………….”

ANJALI: “That one’s me, I’m here.” 

TEACHER: “Are you…?” 

ANJALI: “Don’t worry about it. You can just call me Ang”

TEACHER: “No I really want to say it right.”

Okay guy, I get it. You saw Freedom Writers and this means a lot to you. (Note: I’m just kidding, Mr. Callahan, you still scare me. Sorry again for doing an interpretative dance as a presentation on the New Deal to “Candyman” by Christina Aguilera). 

ANJALI: “Okay fine. So it’s like… It’s like Sponge…ali. Sponge-ali, and then remove the S-P. Anjali.” 

TEACHER: “Spongeali?”

ANJALI: “Anjali”

TEACHER: “Well, okay then.” 

After class, this kid comes up to me and says, “that was funny” - inside I thought, “really? me?” I would’ve done an end zone dance if I could, but I don’t know what an end zone is… (just kidding, I have watched Friday Night Lights). After that, he started calling me Sponge, and slowly, so did everyone else. Sponge this, Sponge that! Once when I was in gym class, a freshman came up to me nervously and asked if he too could call me Sponge. Of course you can, sport! Don’t do drugs! 

I still respond to it. I hear the word “sponge” and I turn my head. When I come home, my high school friends still call me that. A couple call me “Spong” because once, I entered a hot wing eating competition, and when my friend wrote my name on my forehead, he couldn’t fit the E. I was Spong, Sponge, Spongeali. My best friend Aubrey calls me that, especially in drunk texts where we talk about being best friends forever. Those things usually don’t mean anything, but so far, we’ve kept our word. 

I still don’t know whether I like it or not. It’s been over six years, and I still don’t know. But how much do you really like your name? I have though about so many other names that I like better, like Maya or Elaine. (Note: Don’t name your kid Drogo or Khaleesi or Direwolf, you’re an idiot.) I love the names Maya and Elaine, but I don’t want them to be my name. Anjali suits me just fine. Even when I found out that my brother was dating and would eventually marry a girl also named Anjali, I didn’t want to change that either. I wanted her to change her name, and did have many conversations with my father about how we could make that happen. Alas, I could not and she and I are both named Anjali Desai to this day. True Story. 

I don’t think I mind. I don’t give it much thought. Even as I write, I have a hard time posing the question to myself. I didn’t pick Anjali as my name - why should Sponge be any different? My mom told me before she left me at college that no one was allowed to call me Sponge. Not there, not anywhere. Not anymore. She always abhorred it. “Ew” she’d say, every time she heard my friends say it. Thanks, Mom - way to be cool. Her mandate was that all of New York would know me as Anjali Shivraj Desai. My name is important. Who I am is important. 

As much as I didn’t enjoy being commanded, it wouldn’t have been right to introduce myself as Sponge. I’m happy that my mom was wiser than I could be, even if she didn’t know it. I’m a good daughter, and I did her bidding. Sponge was not to make an appearance at NYU. 

I can’t imagine that if American Pie’s Stiffler went to college (could he get into college?), he’d be able to feasibly explain how everyone called him “The Stiffler”. Not even simply explain, but have everyone in his new habitat adopt it the same way. It wouldn’t have had the same meaning there as it did with Finch and whoever Jason Biggs played (He had sex with pie, we need to move on culturally). Despite Stiffler being his last name, it was also a verb. It was a way of being acceptably rowdy, obnoxious, loud and unapologetic. Sponge was jovial, and friendly, and snarky… I guess. I felt I had the verb component. It didn’t feel to me like just a name by the end and then all of a sudden it was gone. 

When I’m at home, it feels different now. I sit with my high school friends in a basement drinking beer, and I get the feeling that they’re waiting for someone to show up that no longer exists. Anymore, when I’m back in preppy, suburban Philadelphia, I hang out with my dog, Indiana Jones. He’s great. He looks like this: 

To have remained that way, that Spongey self, would’ve been to stop a natural progression. Sure it was safe, but it wasn’t really right. Being “Sponge” was the first time I felt people genuinely like me. Anyone. Even my parents. As Sponge, I got the sense that people heard me, felt my presence and thought it added something to their environment. From what shows like Doug and Hey Arnold! told me, to have a nickname means someone talks about you, and thinks about you. That name is then associated with the feeling they have when you’re around. Before I was Sponge, I felt nothing. To feel something, even as this Sponge, was magical. But now, Sponge is gone. It’s not so much an alter ego as it is a predecessor. 

I can feel magical all on my own. As Anjali. 

anonymous asked:

Angsty and fluffy high school dramatics

Derek was sitting across from Stiles at the lunch table when the new girl made her way over to them.

“Hi!” she said. And wow she was overly peppy.

Stiles turned to face her.

“Um hi.”

“I’m Lucy. I just started here yesterday. I saw you in the halls a lot yesterday and you are so cute. And I noticed we have the same lunch period so I though I’d come over here and see if you wanted to hangout some time?”

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how to sabotage yourself

People say that time heals everything, but it doesn’t. It heals some things, and it helps you forget others, but it messes a lot of things up when you let too much of it pass by you. 

I was best friends with a girl for a big chunk of youth. We met through a mutual friend in high school (who was no longer our friend) and instantly clicked. We would carpool to uni together, hang out on the weekends, be there for one another when times were rough, were band mates in our awful garage band, started (and quit) smoking together, shared the same obscure music tastes, and became nurses together. We had our rough patches from people instigating, as well as from our lack of maturity at that age, but we were thick as thieves. I was her ride or die, and she was mine. 

About 5 years ago I finally broke. The pressure from anxiety, depression, and incredibly low self esteem got the better of me, as it had done before when I was 16. I shut down, ended the already crumbling relationship I was in, stopped returning my friends’ texts and calls, and even stopped calling my parents (unless they were calling me to check in because they hadn’t heard from me in a week). I even got a 10-page letter from my mom basically giving me an ultimatum to get help–that’s how bad it was. (side note, I did get help but it unfortunately didn’t help much.) I laid around in bed and freaked out on my days off, and when I went to work in the ICU I had to suppress the desire to scream and put a smile on like I wasn’t dying inside. At least I had patients to focus on, and their problems were worse than mine.

My friend, my very best of friends, knew my history of depression/anxiety/harm and tried many (unsuccessful) times to see me or get me out of the house. I would tell her, yeah, sure, and then bail on her the morning we were supposed to hang out. Like any normal person would, she got sick of it and the texts stopped slowly until there was nothing. We were friends on Facebook, but that’s it. No “Happy Birthday” or “Merry Christmas” from either of us to the other. She went through a lot of drama which isn’t something to talk about here, and I wasn’t there for her when it happened. I went through some as well, and she wasn’t there for it, and I doubt she even knows it happened.

I see her post on Facebook still, see her post pictures, see her happy with the way her life is currently going (or as happy as she wants FB to believe). I’ll like her statuses, or say the cliche “awesome” and “congrats!” every now and then. I see her life digitalized before me, but I don’t know her anymore, and she doesn’t know me either. She tried, bless her heart, a few years ago to reach out to me with FB messenger and ask for my Skype and all that. And what did I do? Not respond, of course. Heaven forbid I do something that doesn’t make things worse for me.

A few weeks ago, I reached out to her. I’m leaving California soon and wanted to see her again because I don’t know when I’d have another chance. I sent her a series of “tl;dr” messages about how much she meant to me, how she’s the reason I became a nurse, how she was always there for me as a teen, how I miss seeing her all the time, how sorry I am that we drifted apart and how I take blame for it. I told her if we could have drinks or something before I head across the country that it would mean the world to me (cuz really, it would!)

The heartbreak sets in at some point though, when I realize she doesn’t really want to have a friendship with me past the superficial white & blue borders of Facebook. Message read 15 days ago, no reply.

I’ve spent the last few hours going through thousands of pictures and 10 years worth of photos, all for it to come to this end. Please keep your dear friends close to you, and don’t let your depression drag you away from them. I don’t want anyone else to make the mistakes I have made.

Jack Gilinsky Imagine: always attract - You Me at Six

If it hurts this much,
Then it must be love,
And it’s a lottery,
I can’t wait to draw your name

You had met Jack in the beginning of the summer at a bonfire while you were both at the beach on vacation, there was instantly something there. No matter how much you both had tried to deny it to yourselves it was clear that the other would be important in your life, as more than just a friend. You never were officially going out but everyone that you had made friends with in those four weeks on the beach had considered you two a couple. The last day of vacation was the last time you would see Jack for awhile, if ever, due to how far you live away from him.

“So what are you planning on doing for the rest of the summer ?” Jack tried to smile as you walked along the hot road, barefoot with icecream that you were sharing. “Um,” You twirled your spoon in your mouth, “I’ll probably hang out, oh and i’m babysitting and doing community service and then I have to take SAT classes, what about you ?” He stuck his finger in the icecream and licked it clean, “Nothing you said besides hang out and I’m doing this tour with some other viners.” I nodded, “Well that’ll be fun.” The silence that fell between us wasn’t awkward but comfortable, just being with each other was something to cherish. He would pick out the icecream and wipe it on you and then hug your side as you laughed uncontrollably. All you could think about was how much you were going to miss this.

“We’ll say goodbye tomorrow morning, okay, it’s not goodbye yet.” He smiled at your rental house’s doorstep, holding you still with your small frame between his big hands. You nodded which earned you an effervescent smile and a quick kiss. Tomorrow you left for home and he left for Nebraska. 16 hours apart.

Oh, I’m trying to get to you,
But time isn’t on my side,
The truth’s the worst I could do,
And I guess that I have lied.

Like he had guaranteed, he was on a tour with other viners but no where too close. Washington DC was the shortest distance from your house but that was still 4 hours away and neither of you could make that trip.

“Y/N ?” You smiled at the sound of his voice, “Hi Jack.” You could tell he was smiling too, “Hi babybabybaby,” He knew how much you hated that, “So Y/N I’m giving in and telling you now, I was going to attempt to sneak up to you before I left but something happened at home and I’m going home early.” He confessed. “Is everything okay ?” Sure you were upset that you wouldn’t see him but you hadn’t had convinces yourself that it would have happened and whatever happened with his family was more important.

Keeping me awake,
It’s been like this now for days,
My heart is out at sea,
My head all over the place,
I’m losing sense of time,
And everything tastes the same

Your heart would ache for Jack’s warm body at least once a day, his voice at night and his laugh every hour. When school started you would zone out and think back to your favorite moments with him. Like the time it was pouring outside and you wouldn’t make it home so you stayed cuddled up in his bed watching funny movies or when he first kissed you at the bonfire and proceeded to put his baseball cap on your head because it was too big and he thought it was funny. Maybe the worst aching was before bed, when you were in his fuzzy Nebraska sweatshirt that he had secretly packed in your suitcase and wished he was either there to sing you to sleep or stay up talking about the craziest things all night long.

The one thing that you were sure of was that you were not over Jack, you would never be over Jack and according to your facebook messages: he would never be over you either.


That night i slept,
On your side of the bed so,
It was ready when you got home,
We’re like noughts and crosses in that
Opposites always attract.

You had this crazy idea but you needed to be up there, you needed to be by the ocean. You called Jack’s mom for her permission and she quickly said yes, “No one uses that house during the winter anyways, go for it Y/N, there may not be food so I apologize in advance.” You packed your mom’s Subaru with warm clothes, blankets, food and soon your best friend, you wanted her to see where this all begin, where this new side of you had come from.

“Is Jack coming ?” Y/BF/N asked. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel and shook your head so your messy ponytail swished, “I made Mrs. Gilinsky promise me that she wouldn’t tell Jack because I know he’d come and he can’t afford to miss anymore school and I don’t want him to drive all the way down here just for a few days.” She sighed and soon fell asleep. It was a thursday december afternoon, it was cold and it was snowing but nothing was going to stop you.

The key was where she said it would be, under the fake door knocker. The house was cold and dark but once your hand met that heat dial it was all better. Y/BF brought some wood in to make a fire with and I checked the refrigerator to see what was there.

“Mrs.Gilinsky there was a good amount of food and beer in the refrigerator.” you furrowed your eyebrows as she said, “Oh that doesn’t surprise me.” You soon finished the call and made your way up to Jack’s room, Y/BF went to get into the bed when you stop her, “Could I actually sleep on Jack’s side of the bed ?” You smiled as she flopped onto the otherside. You pulled out the famous Nebraska sweatshirt and got under his cozy flannel sheets, falling asleep slowly.

You woke up to Y/BF shaking you in the middle of the night, “Y/N, Y/N, someone is at the front door.” Your were quickly out of the bed and slowly creeping down the steps, holding her hand. “Oh my god.” You whispered, scared shitless. You ran to the door and double locked it.

You could hear faint voices, “Why is there a light on inside ?” And then banging, “Who’s in there, I will call the cops and have them in here to arrest you if you do not unlock this door.” You breathed, “Oh my god.” And flew to the door, pulling it open to reveal two sets of rosy cheeks with grocery bags. He dropped them and pulled you to his wet jacket.

Jack pulled back, “Let me get a good look at you baby baby.” He gave you a cocky smile which made yours come out too. You unzipped his jacket and rubbed you hands along his cheeks to warm him up, “What are you doing here ?” You giggled as he slipped off his jacket and his friend stepped in. “I could ask you the same thing.” He put his hands on the side of your face and squished your cheeks together. You laughed, “I asked your mom if I could come up you know.” He shook his head with a lasting grin, “Well I did too.” You were in his warm hold again. And you both slept on his side of the bed.