So I just paid my $985 rent and have basically no money for my hormones. I have the option to either A.) Ask my Mom for money for my hormones and have her yell at me and 99.9% say no or B.) Suffer a month of dysphoria, mental breakdowns,and loss of appetite. Wow …just incredible.
I have such a strong love-hate relationship towards MM:
• I love how well-rounded the characters are and make me believe that they actually care about me.
• I hate how I’m reminded of how lonely I am for not having people like them IRL.
• I love how real the characters can get and just resonate with me with their struggles and worries.
• I hate how the game hits way too close to home and draws lots of gross sobbing from me.
• I love how the game is set-up in real-time to make it more immersive.
• I hate how the chats are set up at odd hours, thus ruining my sleep schedule even more.
• I love the text and call features.
• I hate how those are the only texts/calls I’ll ever receive.
• I love how the game breaks the fourth wall sometimes.
• I hate how I’m reminded that it’s just a game, and they’re not real.
• I love this game.
• I hate how much I love this game.
No. You don’t get that from me.
I refuse to let you feel better,
You deserve to live with what you’ve done.
Live with the fact that your girlfriend loves you,
But I’m still pretty enough for you to kiss.
Live with the fact that you put a girl in the hospital, not once,
You have a record of causing pain with those brown doe eyes.
Too bad all I see now is black.
as much as i dread leaving school and graduating and being considered an ‘adult’ at age 17, i honestly cannot wait to not have to see so many people ever again and actually feel healthy like that actually makes graduation somewhat manageable
On the bright side, Ika told Dre she should only feel safe with Demetres, Ika, and William winning HoH next. Dre just told William that she’s next weeks target. So William and Dre are about to pull out their first HoH win. Get ready for nonstop French game talk!!!!
My palm is still raw from wrenching it off of the
doorknob. My phone was on my bed, too
far away for me to reach, so I couldn’t even call for help. I was left to grit my teeth and peel my skin
off the metal bit by bit. Then I had to
use about five cleaning spells to get all the glue off the doorknob. It was ridiculous.
my left hand to sift through the books on the shelf I’m scanning. My right hand is still bandaged around the
palm. I can wiggle my fingers, or hold a
pencil, but it still hurts, so I move my hand as little as possible, letting it
become stiff in its cocoon of bandages.
turn to find Agatha peering into my aisle, a quizzical look on her face. Even when her eyebrows furrow her features
remain smooth, like no matter what configuration she pulls them into, that’s
exactly where they’re meant to be.
Agatha,” I give her a half-smile, inching a book off the shelf little by little
with my free hand. I make a mental note
to practice operating left-handed, in case anything worse ever happened to my
right hand again.
are you doing here?” she asks, drawing nearer.
is the library.”
know that,” she says, “but what are you doing here?This is the curses section.”
are you planning to curse?”
clench my jaw. “Who do you think?”
nods knowingly. “What did he do this
super-glued my hand to the bathroom door.”
what did you do to deserve it?”
shoot her a raised eyebrow and she shrugs.
“Penelope told me about your prank war,” she explains.
tied his wand up in my cross necklace.”
just nods, not admonishing my actions like I’d thought she would. “So you’re going to curse him?”
open the book I’m holding to the middle, throwing a glance over the words but
not registering a thing. “That’s the
peers at the book’s title. “Curse First: A Guide to Harmless Cursing,”
she reads aloud.
don’t want to actually hurt him, just
give him something to think about,” I say, flipping through a few pages but not
seeing anything to catch my eye.
you tried psychological?”
what I understand, all of your pranks so far have been physical,” Agatha
replies. “You’ve both attacked the body,
so why don’t you try the mind?”
hold her gaze, weighing the idea. “How
would I do that?”
thoughts can be maddening,” she tells me, her eyes cool and clear. “If you can make the brain your weapon,
you’ll have won.”
I take out the book and spend the next few hours
poring over it in a far corner of the library.
Every footfall has me looking up to see who’s there, to make sure Baz
doesn’t find me studying up. Even if I
weren’t searching for spells to bring him down, I can’t concentrate when he’s
to the room much later isn’t nearly as terrifying as it was last night. I suppose it’s possible that he could break
the rules and pull something out of turn, but somehow I know that he won’t. His last move was strong enough that he’ll
give me time to retaliate.
wonder how he’ll react if he doesn’t know I’ve made my move.
lucky tonight, he doesn’t go out gallivanting who-knows-where for a change,
meaning I don’t have to wait as long. I
repeat the lines I’ve written to myself as I get ready for bed, ignoring the
fluttering of my heart. Curses tend to
bring on spurts of adrenaline, which makes them harder to control. If I can’t pull this off tonight, I’ll have
missed my turn.
I emerge from the bathroom, Baz has already turned out the lights and climbed
into bed. He’s facing away from me, but
I can be sure he’s not asleep yet. So I
pull back the covers on my bed, crawl in, and check to make sure the notepaper
with my curse scribbled on it is still in my pocket. Then I settle down to wait.
asleep is always easier when you need to stay awake. Before long, my eyes are burning from holding
them open. The lines of my curse repeat
and mingle in my head as sleep threatens to take over.
Just a little longer, I tell myself, then I can rest easy.
My eyelids slide
closed involuntarily, and I blink hard to force them back open.
strain my ears, listening to every sound I can pick out.
breathes long and deep.
I push myself up and peer over at Baz. I
can’t see his eyes, but the sheets rise and fall slowly. Throwing back the covers and grabbing my wand
from under my pillow (which is where I’ve started to keep it at night, just in
case), I tiptoe across to his bed and squint to see his eyes in the dark. They’re closed, and for a change his brow is
light, smooth, like a boy instead of a monster.
I send out a
quick prayer that he won’t wake up while I’m casting, and then I bring the wand
low over his face.
“Deep sleep, crawl and creep,
From him sweet peacefulness keep,
Turn his dreams to nightmares foul,
Eerie fog and hoot of owl,
Dark, unpleasant, not for fear,
But to keep in misery,
Do not wake for terror’s cries,
Lest you flee his sleeping eyes.”
the time I’m done casting, my wand hand is cramping up in its bandages, and I
have to force the last sparks of magic out.
Baz gives a long sigh in his sleep, and his brow comes together
slightly. Something has worked.
to my bed as my heart slows back to a normal rate. Sliding my wand into its place under my
pillow, my eyes fall shut faster than I can lie down.
is a silent sleeper. He doesn’t snore,
doesn’t mumble or toss and turn, doesn’t shout nonsensical phrases. Sleeping with Baz in the room is like
sleeping with a dead thing in the room.
Ironic, if I’m right about the vampire thing.
when I wake up a little later to the sound of his sheets rustling furiously, I
know something is wrong.
up to see his bed in a flurry of motion as he tosses from one side to the other. I can’t see his face as he moves, but his
breathing is short and heavy like he’s running from something.
the curse has worked. A little too well,
by the looks of it.
It’s harmless, I tell myself as I sink
back down into my pillow, trying to ignore the commotion. He’ll
stop in a moment.
the whimpering starts.
think I’ve ever heard Baz make such a helpless sound. It’s so quiet at first that I can’t even be
sure I heard anything, but then it happens again and I’m certain. He keeps tossing and turning, but now it’s
He must be having a really bad dream.
doesn’t make much sense. The curse was
only meant to conjure minor nightmares, things like falling, bugs, public
humiliation. Just enough to give the
person a restless night’s sleep.
along the way, though, something must have gone wrong with my casting of the
Baz’s whimpers are becoming words, mumbled and then clear as day.
he blurts out the word “no”, it’s generic enough that I’m not overly worried,
but then he’s saying things like “run” and “please”. At the word “mother”, which he says louder
than before, I flinch. I don’t know much
about Baz’s mum, but I know she’s long dead, and I know he was there, and old
enough to remember for the rest of his life.
bolt upright when he says my name.
he doesn’t say “Snow”. He says “Simon”.
think I’ve ever heard him call me “Simon” before now.
suppose we’re fighting in his nightmare, but there’s something about how he
says my name. It’s not angry or defiant,
or even gloating. It’s afraid, it’s pleading,
shake my head and lie back down, trying to erase the memory. What is it they say? Most dreams only last a few seconds in real
life even though they feel really long?
Whatever Baz is dreaming, it will be over soon. I pull my blankets closer over my ears to
block him out, even though it doesn’t work.
I can still hear him.
It’s not passing.
jump out of bed and run to him. He’s
clutching the sheets to his face like he’s trying to hide in them, and I still
can’t see his features for the frantic shaking of his head. Just as I reach him he gives a wordless cry,
and I throw my misgivings to the wind.
I say as calmly as I can, grabbing him by the shoulders, but he just swats at
me in a new panic. This time I shout. “Baz!”
sits up like he’s been shot from a cannon, gasping and panting and looking
around in terror.
me,” I tell him, still gripping his shoulders.
“You’re alright, it’s just me.”
his eyes meet mine they’re wild and dark, and heavy with tears. I see the few seconds it takes for him to
recognize me, and then the relief that floods into them as I brush a lock of his
hair back from his face with my fingers, not even thinking about the tenderness
of the gesture.
was just a nightmare,” I say steadily, my voice low with sleep, and I can see
it grounding him. “Take a deep breath.”
tries, but instead I feel his shoulder start to shake as he comes down from the
panic. The tears spill over from his
eyes and he looks away from me, back down at his lap.
I ever seen him cry? Maybe, but never
This is my fault.
Suddenly I want nothing
more than to fall onto his bed and hold him through his tears, to rub his back
slowly and ride out the terror with him.
go back to bed,” he manages without looking at me, and for a moment I wonder if
he knows what I’ve done.
away from him is like pulling a magnet away from its counterpart. It aches in places I’ve never ached and it
tastes like copper in my mouth.
climb back into bed and the feeling hasn’t faded. It’s just as strong and just as scary.
I’m so sorry, Baz.
voice in my brain tells me to drop the “your move” line, but the thought is so
appalling that it makes my stomach hurt.
nothing. I make no further move to
comfort him, even though every bone in my body is screaming at me to do it.
just lie there as he sobs quietly.
eyes fill with my own tears more than once before we both calm down enough to
fall into a deep, exhausted sleep.