A left, another left, a right, and then a left. Or was it
left, right, left, left?
Jungkook doesn’t have time to worry about that as he races
down the hall, each tick of the clocks in the hospital, each quickening beat of
his heart feeling like it might be the last. Like it might be too late.
Room two twenty-four,
two twenty-five… screw it.
Jungkook bursts through the door a millisecond before he
could process that it was indeed the correct number, but is given confirmation
by the figure seemingly drowning beneath the white sheets.
He was pale. An IV drip attached to one arm. There were a few
patches of faint yellow from the bruising. But amidst the faint beeping in the
background and the smell of disinfectants much too strong, he was still the
same Jimin that Jungkook had always known.
“Jimin—” Jungkook cuts himself off, part of him
afraid that he’d regret whatever tumbled out of his mouth in such a distraught
state, and the other part of him not even knowing what to say.
Jimin, I’m so
sorry…please don’t hate me.
Jungkook keeps his head bowed, avoiding the look of hatred
that he expected from his husband.
But as he looks up and sees that strangely empty look in
Jimin’s eyes, he knows that something isn’t quite right.
“Jimin? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” A pause that feels much too
long. “Sorry, um, could you tell me who you are?” he asks, eyebrows
furrowed and lips curling down into a frown. “Were you someone important
Jonathan’s midterms in uni were probably the type that were 25 multiple choice, 15 true or false, 5 short answer and an essay question and he’d have the make or break bonus question be ‘what’s your fear and why?’
rando on psych forums:
my s/o is abusive, here's what they do, what mental illness do they have?
me, ripping my hair out:
oH MY GOD, SOMETIMES A PERSON CAN BE ABUSIVE AND IT DOES NOT NEED TO "COME FROM" A MENTAL ILLNESS, YOU WRETCHED CRICKET, BEING ABUSIVE IS A CHOICE ABUSERS MAKE, MENTAL ILLNESS DOES NOT MAKE PEOPLE ABUSIVE, PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE THE REASON THAT MENTAL ILLNESSES ARE STIGMATIZED, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD
I call her Wild Woman, for those very words, wild and woman, create llamar o tocar a la puerta, the fairy-tale knock at the door of the deep female psyche. Llamar o tocar a la puerta means literally to play upon the instrument of the name in order to open a door. It means using words that summon up the opening of a passageway. No matter by which culture a woman is influenced, she understands the words wild and woman, intuitively.
When women hear those words, an old, old memory is stirred and brought back to life. The memory is of our absolute, undeniable, and irrevocable kinship with the wild feminine, a relationship which may have become ghosty from neglect, buried by over-domestication, outlawed by surrounding culture, or no longer understood anymore. We may have forgotten her names, we may not answer when she calls ours, but in our bones we know her, we yearn toward her, we know she belongs to us and we to her.
Women Who Run With The Wolves, Clarissa Pinkola Estés