Sort of a personal vent, but in relation to Carry On.
Sometimes I hate reading. I donāt know how to describe it, but the pain and dread I get from fiction is like worse than real life.
I do struggle w anhedonia & alexithymia so maybe that is why?
But itās like books make me feel this weird sort of dread that creeps up on you until your start sobbing. It feels sort of like before a thunderstorm where all the clouds go funny colored & the air gets still & all the birds go silent. And you know something bad is about to happen, but donāt know what.
I hate it. Sucks that I love book characters so much. Canāt even read my favorite books because I get physically ill.
The Simon Snow Trilogy is so important to me. I relate to Simon so much. I relate to Baz so much.
Thereās a unique sort of grief in not having a parent. And having one who left. And having one whoās dying. And I donāt think it is something you can understand unless you go through it.
I havenāt spoke to my bio father since I was nine. He was a terrible person. But I see myself in him. I feel alien in my family. But I donāt remember what he looked like. Or how his voice sounds. Or what color his eyes were. All I remember is we had the same birthmark on the left sides of our head. I sort of feel that more when I read Wayward Son.
Same with my stepdad. He has not been nice to many people. He has hurt so many people. But heās dying, and Iām still sad. Heās never hurt me on purpose.
And just the idea that your friends & family would be better without you. Feeling like a burden. Not caring that they care, because thatās too much. Itās easier to push people away, to have them mad at you, than to feel how you affect them. Because you know youāre bad for them, and they just canāt see it.
Or that feeling that youāre just wasted potential.
When Simon was getting used to his wings, it reminded me of when I was recovering from an eating disorder. I projected it into a fic once, Iāll just share an excerpt, not my best, obviously:
I donāt let anyone touch my wings. Not even Penny. She only brushes them when she has to spell them invisible. And even then, I complain. Not because it hurts. It doesnāt. Theyāre just sensitive. Not in a painful way, just ticklish.
I donāt love my wings either. Having them appear felt like learning to walk again, stumbling about like a toddler just discovering their center of gravity.
I bump into things more often. Doorways, chairs, people. Iāve had them for years now. But theyāre still always in the way.
Which sucks, because I actually do like people. Iām a very physically affectionate person. Iād hug my friends all the time if I didnāt feel like I was constantly apologizing for knocking things over. Itās not like I can just get rid of them. Even when theyāre invisible, theyāre still there.
So I keep them to myself. I fold them in as much as I can.
And Simonās emotions. I relate to him so much. The anger that builds up until you explode. Sometimes I feel so hurt and sad that I just start shaking. And I donāt feel safe. And it morphs into anger. And I feel so unstable that I could just throw something or scream. Usually, it results in a nosebleed. Maybe a five mile walk or the punching bag.
The shame Baz felt for wanting Simon also eats at me a lot. Iāve always felt that love is this shameful, disgusting thing. It doesnāt matter what kind it is, it shouldnāt be expressed.
Growing up all I knew is that having a crush is embarrassing, shameful, and that I was selfish for my thoughts. Baz keeping silent all that time isnāt that crazy to me, I had a crush on one of my best friends for five years in high-school. I didnāt tell anyone. I didnāt tell her. I didnāt even let myself think about it. I relate to that a lot.
I just love this series so much, but I struggle to read it because it hurts me too much to read it. It makes my chest ache.
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