Genre: angst, angst, angst - more so the remiscent type of angst, and some super slight romance, and super slight vent fic
Pairing: Misc. X GN!Reader
Notes: This is what happens when I feel an oncoming panic attack and need to release whatever messed up stuff my brain is gonna form whether or not I like it.
Fair warning for this little thing here, though: this is not very story based, much rather like a random train of thought. It may also be a little unhinged, but what can one expect when dealing with something that they don’t know how to navigate well in the slightest?
This is also semi-based around the song “LOVE” by PEGGY, emphasis on semi-based. I was hopping between songs that I thought would be able to satiate my sense of despair and partial loathing, but that song was the kicker for this piece.
Below the cut.
(03/01)
This started out okay.
This was easy at first.
I was blind to the absolute disaster this would be to my wellbeing, but...
I still want it.
I still crave it.
....Maybe.
Click.
(03/03)
Crying doesn’t help. I’m not externally shaking. There aren’t tears streaming down my face.
But it doesn’t feel right to not let it be outward.
I can feel my heart pounding in my ears.
I can also feel their hands over my ears and eyes when that one sound got me to flinch and freak out. I can feel their fingertips pushing my hair behind my ear, and their palm on one of my cheeks with their lips oh so gingerly pressing the slightest on the other.
I can feel their breath on my neck, and their hand on my leg, brushing sweet, simple little circles right by my kneecap. I can feel their hugs, tight and warm and comfortable and nice.
I can feel their gaze linger, and the tears that were about shed all because of a cheesy little moment in a TV show. I can feel the vibrations of their voice from behind, and their grip wrapped around my upper arm and my waist.
But as much as I can feel, that fails to negate the fact that this is both the beginning and the end.
Things are never gonna be exactly the same, not unless years pass by first.
This is a whole new door, and the options are limited as to what happens next.
Plan as many dates as one can desire, but I’m not them. I don’t have control over their decisions, and I know that I have no right to be particular about what they do with their time.
So this shouldn’t sting so much.
...
It does.
Why does it sting so much?
Lack of affection from previous partners? Lack of safety? Understanding?
Is it me? Is romance that foreign of a concept?
My cynicism can only go on for so long.
I can only maintain the thought that love is something that isn’t important for so long.
Click.
(03/07)
At least, in my book, my brain and heart shouldn’t mix. They shouldn’t combine, because if they do, something will happen that I know I’ll come to regret in the future.
I know I want this.
I know I want the fleetingly teasing touches, the gentle affection, the mutual respect, the comfort, the safe space in the form of people.
I know I want it.
I know that I find that fact hard.
I know that my heart is actively trying to shun that knowledge, and that my brain is trying to enforce it.
I never thought that I’d end up here, honestly. I thought that I’d be able to go through life with little worry in this regard. I thought that love would come, and that it would come when necessary, when some unknown force knew that it was time to push it unto me.
Is this the universe doing just that, or am I rushing it do that?
Click.
(03/12)
I shouldn’t have done this. That door should never have opened, and I should have never even fathomed letting it materialize. Nothing good comes from pessimism, panic attacks, and persistence.
This should be good.
I know that, logically, this is good. I know that this has the potential to work.
I know that this was the stipulation. The catch-22. The deal with the metaphorical devil.
I knew that when I let this happen.
When they leave, what do I do? If they’re alone together, I can only accept that fact. That’s all there is to do.
I wish I could find the capacity to cry about this.
Click.
(03/14)
I’ve never been in love before this. Never really had a chance to, if I’m being honest.
I‘ve always found it cheesy, and my focus was never directed towards something that “shallow”.
I’ve been questioning if it really is that shallow, now.
This whole deal has been good. Really, it has.
It’s nice, feeling like I’m appreciated as opposed to hearing it from the mouth of my mother, father, or family member. Even teachers, bosses, and coworkers can say it and it doesn’t hold as much meaning as the small actions and expressions they direct at me.
It only just now dawned on me that this is selfish.
I want to love, I want to be loved, and I want to share love.
Physical, emotional, mental - I want love to be a part of my life.
But they come first, that’s the end of this story. That’s all there is to it.
However, love is selfish by nature.
Someone wants someone else to themself, or to themselves.
They want that person or people to be there with them at all hours of the day.
They want to hold their hands, and press fluttering pecks to their pulse points.
And now, it’s in my grasp. It’s been in theirs, though, and now I feel awful for thinking about how wrong my thought process has been.
...
I have a feeling that I need to calm down before this progresses any futher. That, or I need to up my anti-depressant prescription.
Whichever comes first, I guess.
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Genre: a very angsty vent piece (that is one of two forewarnings), and a slight song-fic
Pairing: Misc. X GN!Reader
Notes: I never really thought that I would result to doing this, but here we are!
I’ve been dealing with a lot of conflicting stuff lately, and I can’t keep it in anymore. I don’t feel comfortable enough to tell my friends this stuff, nor my parents - anyone, really.
The feeling of being fairly anonymous calms that just a little, so here goes nothing. This is based off the Hero and Villain song, “Trust Me Not”, by Backseast Vagabond. If you want to, you can listen to it here.
And don’t worry, I will get to the requests right after this. I just needed to clear my mind before finishing the pieces that were requested - they aren’t forgotten.
Otherwise, this will deal with some intense topics, and some trauma-related aspects of relationships and such that I have experienced as well as suicidal ideation and extreme depictions of anxiety and anger.
Remember, if you do not feel comfortable reading this, please skip this piece. Please.
Below the cut.
“What are you doing, dear?”
Blank eyes, bags, and looking gaunt. Lovely.
“Aren’t you tired?”
Sniffling.
“God, what are you doing here? I don’t think that you were invited.”
Two different versions. Two different people. Of course, there was always two sides to a story.
“Here you go again, pretending that you love me....”
“When just beneath the surface, you’re convinced that you’re above me.”
Two people. One on each shoulder.
They looked similar, save for the fact that they were polar opposites. One happy, one depressed. One stable, one unstable. One actually living, the other simply surviving.
The image stings.
“Dig deep into the past, I’ve never been one for doing things half-assed - if I’m here to save you, I’ll be here forever!”
No. No, no, no, no-
“Just take my hand, I’ll be your knight in shining armor!”
I slammed my fist on the marbled counter.
Scene upon scene of the two of us flashed through my head, colors drained and atmosphere dull.
That used to be happy.
That used to be perfect.
What happened?
Was it ever perfect?
“You think you’re a hero?”
Then the tears come. They sting too.
“And they’ll tell you, you are!”
And now sobbing. I love this, really, it’s great.
It’s amazing feeling like shit, like you can never be happy. It’s great being tired, it’s great running in circles and trying not to drive off the nearest bridge when going to your parent’s house.
It’s great to be in a constant state of pain, and wondering if you’re leading them on.
They don’t deserve it. They don’t deserve me and my fucked-up-ness.
“’So stoic and handsome,’ and, ‘You’ve come so far!’”
Great, now my hands are bruised.
Though, I guess I kind of deserve it. Especially after what I started, I deserve it.
Nothing more than an asshole and an idiot, doing what I did and what I’m doing now.
How can I see their face again and still have the gall to embrace them?
I’m starting to think that all I’m good for is a good fling.
That seems like the only course of action that I can take without it hurting.
“You think you’re villain, but I know you’re not!”
Really now?
Really now?
I’m not a villain?
...
I don’t believe it. I can’t.
“Under all that angst and anger is a beating, human heart.”
Not true.
“What about the lonely little girls?”
“I’m sorry!”
Stop-
“What about her monsters who prevailed?”
“I’m sorry!”
Stop, not this, please not this-
“You never came to save my world-”
No-
“What about me?”
“What about us?”
‘What about us?’...
What. About. Us?
WHAT ABOUT US?
You never came for me when I needed you most, you only decided to come at the worst possible times.
You claim that you’re here to make me happy, you claim that you’re here to make things easier and help me get better, but you don’t! You never did! You’ve caused more harm than good more often than not! You’ve hurt me more than I could ever dream of hurting others!
And the worst part about it is that...you’re still me.
You are still me....
...Why do you have to be a part of me?
“I recognize that you’re upset, I know they did you wrong.”
“Oh, you know nothing of me!”
“Oh, you know nothing of me!”
I did it.
The mirror is now in shards, about a fifth of them lodged in my hand.
I couldn’t hear the shatter. I could only hear them...
Them, that nasty little prick of a voice that makes me ‘happy’...
“But trust me, please believe me - this won’t stop the hurt for long!”
Lies.
That’s all they are, just lies.
...right?
“We don’t need to end like this! Look me in the eyes...”
“Here comes the hero complex....”
Oh, the hero complex, indeed...
Gotta love it, being so stupid that you don’t even realize that youst head is shoved so far up your ass that you assume the red sheen over the world is your rose-colored glass when really it’s just the copious amount of feces clouding your vision.
“I may be a villain...”
“You call yourself a villain...”
Am I the villain? Truly?
“But you’re the one who lies.”
“But we know it’s a disguise.”
Yeah, seems about right.
I really must be the villain by now.
Especially now.
“So, you’re back at it again, twisting and manipulating every word I’ve said....”
Let me guess....
“Come on, you know that’s not true - I’m just trying to help you! Let me help you!”
‘I’m trying to help you! Let me help you!’
Yeah, seems about right.
“You are not my hero! You don’t know how it felt...”
Hitting the nail on the head, really.
The pessimist in me has always been right, from what I could observe.
“What else could I do with the cards that I’ve been dealt?”
The first one, the next one, the third, fourth, fifth, sixth....
This may be the only good ‘card’ that I’ve gotten.
“You are not the villain! You once held my hand.”
....
I can’t do this anymore.
“Stand up. Get out.”
‘Sometimes things don’t go as planned.’
I pulled my trembling body away from the mirror, blood dripping from my hands and tears staining my face. I was still struggling to breathe, and my heart was still racing.
But I can’t do this anymore.
‘NEW MESSAGE: Darling <3′
Delete.
I deleted the chat I had with them and proceeded to type out a long-winded response.
I didn’t know what else I was to do in this scenario.
‘Hey.
‘It’s pretty shitty of me to do this to you, as I don’t know if I’m really good for you. I’m fucked up, you’re not - you don’t need the baggage.
‘That, and I don’t know how I feel about dating. I know I liked you at one point, but now....
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what else to say.
‘At least, besides the fact that I can’t deal with this pain, and stress, and I don’t want you to carry my baggage.
‘I’m gonna disappear for a while, but I don’t want you to worry.
‘I’ll be in a better place then.’
I grabbed my car keys and checked my savings.
Getting the hell out of here would have never felt worse, really...but this needed to be done.
