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13x06 “Tombstone”
Of Wings and Winchesters

I have to say the ending scene of the episode was probably the one to make abundantly clear that (and I know it’s been emphasized before in the episodes prior how Jack is paralleling with Sam, Dean and Castiel alike) Jack already is a Winchester. Not only made him Dean part of “Team Free Will 2.0″ which is an honor all by itself, but Jack’s identity crisis and fear of hurting the ones he loves and for that reason decides to keep his distance is probably THE action/decision to truly render him one of them, after all all of them - Sam after his demon blood addiction, Castiel in purgatory and Dean after the Gadreel fall out - deemed it better at one point in time to walk aay from the people they cared about most, because they were afraid to hurt them, pull them down or “poison” them.

Furthermore, and of course we already knew that Jack could teleport, but we never actually heard the “swooshing” noise of angel wings (which Jack seems to have given the sound cue - which works nicely in opposition to Castiel) and I did enjoy how they introduced and foreshadowed how Jack would disappear just moments later in the first gif, because the way this short was framed, the lights behind Jack already give him wings. So that was pretty neat in an otherwise way too overcrowded and uneven episode.

One year ago today I got my current phone. The one before this one didn’t have a working front facing camera, so this was a big deal. I remember taking this and it took me a bit to figure out the live photo thingy.

I remember that day. I remember the first selfie I took with this phone and what I was thinking. I remember her 👆🏻I remember conversations and feelings.

I’m not her anymore. I was happy. For a while I think I actually was. I looked forward to things and felt good about myself.

Now the first thought I have every morning is “fuck” and not in the good way. I cry in bed most nights.

I used to feel silly and excited and funny and quick and sexy and… good.

Now I don’t. I’m not good. I feel like I’m faking everything. I sleepwalk through most days. Every day is just me going through the motions until bedtime, when I have to deal in the dark silence with these feelings that just won’t fucking go away no matter what I do. And I know I’ll wake up the next morning, lie in bed for a bit, dreading the coming day because being this sad all the time is exhausting.

I’m so tired of this. Of everything. Of me.