too many feelings

“Do you want me to keep things from you? I never know how much of my feelings are too much for other people to handle.”


I am having Feelings

I’m having Feelings

Okay, so.

What about that scene in Bucky’s shitty squat? The reunion scene? Cap’s like “do you know me?” And Bucky? Bucky’s, like…

Just be in Bucky’s shoes for a second here. Standing in front of Bucky is Steve Rogers, his best pal from forever ago. That was (if nothing else) a seriously solid friendship. Think of the mutual respect in TFA. Think of how people avoid seeing old friends (hell, even avoid seeing old enemies - think of high school reunions!) because they’re worried what that old friend will think of them.

Now imagine that turned up as high as it could possibly go. Bucky is a wanted criminal, a murder machine. He worked for the Russians during the Cold War, and the nazis, and pretty much anybody on the Bad list. And in case that’s not enough, he beat the ever-loving shit out of his best friend the last time they met. So, “do you know me?” Christ, poor Bucky. I’d fake ignorance too.

After all, Bucky’s just gotten his head together enough to be surviving on his own. He’s not integrated into society, but he’s passing for it, or nearly. He’s got that horrible past. He’s got to be suffering PTSD, survivor’s guilt, all manner or trauma related shit. To say nothing of the Jimminy Cricket of his own morality that’s probably keeping him up at night with questions like, “why didn’t I kill myself? How culpable am I for what I did? Do I deserve to be alive and free?”

And who’s standing in front of him? Not just his bestie, no. Captain fucking America. In his suit and everything. All shiny and perfect and upright, who gets an exhibit at the Smithsonian and probably commemorative stamps too. When Bucky says he read about Cap, he’s not lying. He doesn’t know the man in front of him; he knew Steve Rogers, not this guy. He doesn’t know Cap anymore, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do. “I read about you,” he says. He’s hiding in the last place left to him: amnesia.

Bucky is scared. Not of what Cap might do to him, but of Steve’s disappointment and reproach.

When Cap asks “why’d you pull me from the river?” He’s not asking that, not really. He’s begging Bucky to come out of hiding. When Bucky keeps hiding (“I don’t know.”) Steve has to show him that he doesn’t care about all the bad stuff, that’s not why he’s there. He’s there as Steve Rogers, not Cap. And Steve doesn’t care about what Bucky did. He cares about Bucky.

That scene where Bucky’s like “I don’t know if I’m worth all this…” He’s inviting Steve to be Cap and bring him in, and Steve’s like “I already decided that you are.”

“If I could help feeling this way about you, I would. It gets hard. Things just explode inside of me, and with everything being so intensely magnified it gets easy to feel like my feelings are one-sided. Regardless, I still don’t know how to not voice them, and I’m sorry if that has ever taken a toll on you. Trust me, I’d carry this burden on my own if I could, but it’s like my heart just doesn’t want to.”

[Ask RPedia] Anxious About My Writing: Help?

Anonymous asked: I know this is normal for writers and that there isn’t a real solution but I’m gonna ask anyway: Any advice on how to stop feeling insecure about what/how I write?

Oh man, this is gonna sound like such an asshole move, but my favorite way to help myself is to write to spite everyone else. Seriously. Write like you hate everyone else in the world. Write like they mean fucking nothing to you. Write because they’re gonna get what you write, and they’re gonna like it, if they know what’s good for them. Write to make that mental editor representing the ‘them’ in your head mad as hell.

It’s always energized me to flippantly declare to myself that if people don’t like something I like, they can go fuck themselves in some fancy new way, because I’m busy writing and I don’t see them getting off their ass! They’re reading anyways ain’t they? Then they god damn don’t have anything better to do than let me shove words, and ideas, and mental pictures into their heads rapidly. Them complaining? Hah, you mean leaving impassioned responses because I hit a nerve. I CONTROL them. 𝕀 𝔸𝕄 𝔸𝕊 𝔸 𝔾𝕆𝔻.

…ahem. There’s other things to think about. I just, really like getting pumped about that concept because getting pumped makes it really awesome. Lemme uh… lemme try talking about … other things… next. Instead of declaring my godhood, wow, that is so ‘famous last words’ material for a character to say.

Keep reading

  • what she says: I'm fine
  • what she means: Ludwig van Beethoven was too precious for this world, we didn't deserve him, and sometimes I wish with all my heart I could find it in me to believe in an afterlife just so I could rest assured he found some peace, but I'm too skeptical to actually believe that so I just mope and cry about him, finding some solace in the fact that still being able to ignite a fire in someone's heart after all those years is definitely something he would have wanted.
I’m too often expected to keep quiet about things that are just too much, too loud. I can’t keep everything inside all of the time, and ink isn’t always as helpful as I trust it to be. Sometimes I need to scream.
—  🖤
When I was younger, I was better at hiding my emotions. And when I’m asked why that’s not the case now, I say that it’s because waterfalls get louder when they reach the bottom. I’ve reached the point where I’m crashing, crashing into pointy rocks that sharpen my fall instead of break it. So I’m just hoping to level out soon, maybe as a creek or river could. I don’t want to keep falling forever.
—  Fallen. 🖤