I was wondering if you would do a Heath Ledger smut. Not of the character, the Joker, just a smut of the actor Heath Ledger. I totally get if this is pushing any boundaries. If it’s okay just reply then i’ll send an ask again but with more detail about the smut. Thanks!
Hellooooo ✨
I'd absolutely love to write a Heath Ledger smut 🥺 I think that he is as important as his characters, so you're not pushing any boundaries, don't worry UwU
Thank you so much for the request! Feel free to ask for anything else. I hope you have a wonderful day ❤
I think everyone has dealt with Artist's Block (from here on out refered to as AB) themselves. You're either out of ideas, can't seem to finish your work or you simply think you aren't good enough. AB is something that is normal for creators to face and it should be taken seriously. I, myself, am writing this post because I was writing a lot of fanfictions / short stories that I couldn't finish. What I've learned from it is that it's okay to take breaks every once in a while and you'll never know how long these breaks will last until you actually get your creative vision back. Don't force yourself to write just because you have to meet someone's expectations or you find that your unfinished work is useless. You need to change how you see the world and your works of art. Unfinished pieces of work should not be demoralizing or demotivating, and they should never represent weakness or impotence. You can learn from your unfinished pieces of art and you can re-write them into completely new pieces of art! Reutilizing the same unfinished idea shouldn't be frowned upon because you can learn and improve new ways of writing, painting, et cetera.
Long story short, AB is a normal thing that happens to every artist and you shouldn't force yourself to finish your projects. Instead, you should learn from them and improve as an artist! ✨
Credit: Unknown (If you own this GIF please DM me so I can properly credit you)
Genre: Smut
Warning: NSFW / Blood Fetish
Pairing: L!Joker x Reader
Word Count: 1300
Today might've been the slowest day of your life. You sat behind the counter for countless hours waiting for costumers but nothing happened. The only people who actually came in the shop were either men in a rush or elderly people, but you didn't see anyone else. Did I forget something? You asked yourself. And then, when you finally looked outside, you noticed it - a huge fire coming from the hospital. It finally clicked. J went to visit Dent at his lowest point.
You immediately rang your boss but she didn't pick up the phone. You were desperate and anxious. Your foot was tapping rapidly on the floor and you were starting to hyperventilate faster and harder. Each rushing man that passed, ring from the phone and tap on the solid wooden floor left you more and more worried for your own sake. You were sure he was going to kill you. Sooner or later he would find out you weren't there and then you would finally learn the definition of pain. As soon as she picked up the phone with the sweetest "Hello?" you had ever heard you rapidly spewed an incomprehensible word diarrhea that neither her nor you understood. She immediately asked if you were alright to which you replied that you were simply worried sick for your significant other's well-being since he was in the hospital since the fire had started. You asked if you could take the day off so you could see if he was doing alright, to which she replied you should. Without hesitation, you put your apron down and rushed as fast as possible out of that store and immediately ran home. She was the sweetest person you had met and you would've considered her a good friend if not for the fact that you didn't see each other often.
As soon as you were standing in front of door you fumbled around for your keys but you couldn't find them. You must've left them at the store when you were heading home. But that didn't matter now, you weren't turning back. You shamefully knocked on the door and a very angry J answered it.
- You are two hours late. Where were you? - He said while looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your soul had given up and, at this point, was just admiting defeat.
- I was working. I'm sorry I forgot, J. It won't happen again, promise... - You replied in a tired and worn out voice.
- Oh trust me, this won't happen again, I'll make sure of it.
- Wait, what do you me-
Before you could reply you felt something knock you out. It wasn't him, he was completely still, but he wasn't worried about it, either.
You woke up and you were terrified. You were in a completely darkened room with nothing but a spotlight shining on your face. Suddenly, J came out of the shadows. He started walking towards you with a menacing stare. As soon as you tried to move your arm to stop him you noticed you were tied to a big wheel, like a ritualistic carnival.
- W-what're you doing?! - You were so scared you couldn't hear yourself think over the sound of your thumping heart. You know him well enough to understand that he'd be perfectly capable of doing something like this if he ever got uncontrollably mad.
- Welcome, to the wheel of fortune! - He laughed aloud as if he had an audience. - Due to um.. budgetary constraints it only has two sides. You'll have to figure them out on your own. Good luck! ‐ He maniacally cackled with malicious intent.
- No, no, no, wait! - You said before he turned the wheel with his hands. You could feel your blood rushing to your side and you were starting to feel lightheaded and dizzy. You tried to tell him to stop but you couldn't, your body was giving up on you extremely quickly.
As soon as you were about to pass out you felt a sharp knife land next to your head. You were so terrified you couldn't feel your heart pump anymore and you would have certainly reached for your pulse if you weren't tied to the wheel. He put you upright and removed the knife from the side of your head. You swore you thought it ripped out a couple of hairs.
- Congratulations! You're a um.. lucky winner!
- Great, j-just great. - You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down. - What do I get now?
He put the knife up to your cheek and scarred you without saying a word. He slowly started kissing and licking the scar, covering his lips with a delicious shade of red. He was dragging the knife up until he reached your lips. You slowly envelloped your lips and soon both of you had your lips covered in blood. You were simultaneously terrified and excited but you didn't know which one of the two you should feel right now. While you were kissing sensually he decided to move his hands down from your neck and into your tits. He started meticulously rubbing your nipples while he simultaneously grabbed you leg with his other hand. You had practically forgotten what had happened and the best part was yet to come.
He started moving his hand down on your waist, into your other leg and, finally, into your pussy. You weren't particularly wet after what had happened today but he sure was about to make you. While he laggardly rubbed your clit you were softly moaning and biting your lip in unadulterated pleasure. <More.> You whispered. You knew you were desperate and you couldn't stop yourself. You wanted to be his and at this point you would do anything for him. He started to move seductively while fingering you. He was slowly feeling your insides and you were absolutely delighted by it. You told him to stop for a second, muttering something in his ear which he followed to a T. He lowered the wheel and let your legs free by cutting the rope with the knife he was carrying earlier. You immediately wrapped his legs around his waist and were trying to pull him in but he was taking things a bit more slowly. He rubbed the tip of his dick against your wet pussy while laying on top of you. You were slowly kissing each other. However, while he was biting your lip, it started to bleed, so he started licking tenderly. Needless to say, that by itself got you got even more turned on. You scratched his back and pulled him in, biting his neck passionately. He knew this was the time to strike so he stuck his dick in you. That was it, that was when your chips were cashed. You felt nothing but pure ecstasy and you wanted much, much more. He started off slow but he quickly picked up the pace and, coincidentally, so did your breathing. With each thrust your mind was feeling more and more blank with thoughts about him. You could even say you felt overwhelmed now, but at the time you couldn't get enough of it. He grabbed both of your wrists and started thrusting harder. You always enjoyed it when he was serious around you, it left you more and more excited for what was about to come. He was kissing your neck and you were moaning as loud as you could. There were no restraints now, neither physical nor psychological. You freed one of your hands and you started intensely scratching his back again. That was a sure-fire way of showing him that you wanted everything he had to offer and more. And not only did he offer it, he also delivered. He gave everything he had to make you happy in that particular moment, even though he was the one in charge, still. J started to speed up even more even though you thought he was close to exhaustion and he was also starting to grab your hand extremely hard so you knew what was about to come. He was a big man, however, so he was starting to hurt you a little more than you had expected. You slowly pushed him away from you, got on your knees and started blowing him. He pushed your head straight into his base and came all over your mouth. You licked your lips in satisfaction and gave him a quick peck on the lips. You noticed that both of you had equally enjoyed that experience, regardless of that awkward start. And, if you haf to be honest, you'd like to try it again soon.
Author’s Note: Thank you for requesting this fic! I’ve seen way too many Joker movies, so I might’ve messed up his personality a teeny tiny bit. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!
The night is very, very silent. Nothing could be heard, not even the flowing of the wind. All of the best criminal minds have either gone missing, been arrested or have been killed. Gotham has never been this quiet in years, if not decades. Both Harley and Joker were sitting on the couch. With no one to distract them from their dastardly deeds what more could they do?
J was sitting pensively, thinking of any plan or people that would shake up the city and start a new wave of crime that would return the old chaotic feeling back, the true state of Gotham. He had a list of papers he had “borrowed” from a police station many years ago. It had a list of every evildoer in the city and where they were. This wasn’t a small piece of handiwork either. It was piles on top of piles of paperwork, and, like mentioned beforehand, these “gentlemen” couldn’t be contacted in any way, shape or form. He sighed loudly while looking at the ceiling and slowly started moving his hazel-nut eyes into Harley’s general direction. She was bored out of her mind – an extroverted maniac not being able to release her pent up insanity is psychologically degrading. If he had to be honest, he didn’t know how he had handled her for so long. She is uncontrollable and unpredictable and, although he liked that, he was starting to see her true face after being stuck inside for so long. They could always go into hiding but she refused to, she didn’t want to give up her life of crime, she didn’t want to be normal again, or “boring”, as she’d say. He’d rather not think about that now, it’ll only make him even more anxious, knowing that the world wasn’t in the palm of his hands and all because of her, no less.
Harley was wildly swinging her comically large mallet from side to side. It had dried blood on both ends and it thirsted for more. Unfortunately, however, she couldn’t satisfy its quench. Her hair had regained milky blond color and her face was the same silky white as the day she was born. J’s accessories had also degraded over time, his suit was growing a duller shade of purple and his hair was growing brown again.
- Jaaaaaaaaaay, I’m boooooooored, let’s do something fun!
- I know, Q, I know. It’s just been very uh… hard this past couple of months, you see? – He said exhaled profusely and dropped his paper on his desk. – We can’t really do anything, if you uh… think about it. All of our former allies are gone and the bat’s been missing for a really long while now. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had uh… died of old age at this point.
- Oh, oh, I know! Let’s give those pesky billionaires a real handful, at least then we’d have more money to buy more things! Maybe even some associates? – She excitedly said, with a glimmer in her eye. That glimmer had been missing for a long time. Perhaps if he could maybe keep that tiny glint of hope in her she would come up with an actual plan in the meanwhile.
- No, no, that’d be too easy. C’mon, Q, I know you’re better than that. – If he had to be honest he didn’t have much hope left, either. But you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don’t take.
- Uhhh, how abooooout we go up north? I heard there were some odd looking fellows up in Philly!
- Wait, really? – He said while his eyes grew wider, he was genuinely surprised. He had been searching through papers for days and he only heard about it now. He wondered what else she could be hiding from him, so he tried to push her a little further.
- Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve forgotten. – She giggled for a bit – They say that man with a weird looking beard is prophesizing that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same person, but we know the truth, don’t we?
- Wait, do you mean Hugo Strange? That guy’s uh… older than I am.
- Yeah! That one! – She said, enthusiastically, while kicking her feet on the couch like an overexcited child – He wanted to come over and visit us, it was supposed to be a suprise! – She started twirling her hair and rolling her big eyes – Maybe he could help us? I don’t know…
- He will, don’t worry. He’s, uh… a little old friend of mine.
- He hasn’t said anything for a long time, though… Maybe we should pay him a visit!
- Yeah, I’d love that. – He briefly paused while looking at his papers. Out of all the criminals, why did he escape in particular? He’d guess the reason for his survival was his normal appearance and job, even though he lost his mind trying to fulfill his vendetta.
- C’mon J! We don’t have all day, get ready to rock!
She was finally happy again, after being at a standstill for so long. Her mallet gained new life as well. It was swinging recklessly, anticipating action weeks in advance. Being stuck at home does change people, unfortunately, for better or for worse. She went into the bathroom so she could ready herself up for tomorrow. After all, the makeup wasn’t going to put itself on. J also had to get some preparations ready. Before leaving, he had to gather up some goons who’d accept and follow his almost messianic reawakening. Hugo Strange was not a force to be reckoned with, even though their unpredictability was an advantage. So, knowing this, J thought he needed strength in numbers and, considering the state which things were in, these low-level scums would suffice.
As soon as the sun poked its head out of the horizon they both decided to tread silently through Gotham. They didn’t know if Batman was alive and they didn’t want to find that out, either. So, as tranquil as the night, they left the city as fast as they could just so they could pay an old friend a visit. This was, undoubtedly, going to be an interesting reunion.
Today’s the 1st day of April, and you know what that meant, it was finally time to prank your boyfriend. If you were to be honest, you had this planned for a looooong time, but you never had the opportunity to pull it off because you never felt too comfortable making these kinds of jokes. This one was a serious one and, despite finding it hilarious, you were simultaneously fearful of what he would do to you when he found out. Nevertheless, if you wanted to pull this practical joke off you needed to get some preparations done first.
You started by removing all of your knives from the room because you were fearful he’d stab you instinctively before he could find out what was going on, despite your love for knives. You used them more than you should, in all actuality. Not only did you wield them to torture people who you knew you were going to kill anyway, you used them to pleasure each other, as well. You loved being scarred no matter where, except the face, of course. You still had your own life besides J, so a huge scar on your face would always be a cause for suspicion. Luckily, you have a pet cat, so you could always shift the blame on to it. Luckily they laughed it off and so did you, but as soon as you came home you berated him so he’d never do it again. Although, as always, he didn’t care. Not that he didn’t care for you; he’d admit that himself even if he didn’t show it, he just didn’t care about petty things. He did as he pleased and you liked that in him – the ability to not be controlled by social norms, or legal norms, for that matter, was something you admired and so very wished to achieve. He’s currently trying to help you reach that goal, as well, although things aren’t going as smoothly as you had expected. You have a very hard time being, or pretending to be, unemotional. Your first kill was a horrendous one, you admit that, even though you didn’t have any emotional connection to the deceased man, you still cried for him. He comforted you for a bit, but he quickly told you to get back on your feet, if you spent any more time in that damned placed you would’ve been caught.
You woke yourself up from your daydream and hurried up, you were sure he’d be there in no time, and, surprisingly, you were right. He seldom gets home on time, but I guess today was one of those days. He always says that «business isn’t uh… sunshine and rainbows» and despite knowing that’s true, you wonder what he’s doing there every time. Is he killing the businessmen he’s trying to dissuade? Are they that stubborn? You understood that it might be hard to collaborate with a wanted, unpredictable criminal, but something else has to be going on, maybe you should start investigating him while he wasn’t looking.
You heard his car stop outside; you were growing more and more anxious, thinking if you should really do this, or if you should keep your mouth shut so he wouldn’t literally kill you. He headed on inside while taking his heavy purple suit on the coat hanger, even though that thing almost tumbles over because of its weight. Today was a hot and sunny day but you refused to go outside because you wanted to have some fun first. You welcomed him home, such as it is, and escorted him to the shower, since he must be scolding hot while wearing that darned suit all day. He wanted you to join him while showering but, as much as you wanted to join him, you had the perfect plan in your head.
You mounted a siren behind the curtains and you set your phone up as well so it’d emulate a cop’s siren at full volume. After mounting those and setting those up you pretended to bust down your front door. He furiously came out of the bathroom with nothing more than a towel over his hips and a confused stare on his face. He wasn’t panicking, but he was worried for your safety. Although, the only thing he saw was your sorry ass standing in the bedroom with pleading eyes, apologizing to him and that you had to do this before he could hurt you. He was fuming. You could see and feel his frustration building up quickly inside of him. He threw you against the wall and you were knocked out, you only remember hearing him saying «stay here, I’m not going down without a fight».
You woke up feeling dazed and confused and he was sitting right in front of you with a siren in his hands. You could still feel how angry he was, although he refused to show it to you.
- You want to explain what this is? – He said while irately looking at you.
- Uhmmm… April Fools?
As soon as you said that he grabbed you by your shoulders and threw you on to the bed.
- I’ll uh… show you who the fool is.
There was no foreplay this time; he was too annoyed and angry to give you that kind of pleasure. He ripped your clothes off before you could say anything, giving him the pleasure of admiring it, not that he cared about it now, though. He threw his towel against the wall and he forced his throbbing veiny cock inside of you. He was careful while doing this every other time, but I guess today was different. He wanted to pleasure himself and no-one else; if that came at your expense he didn’t care. Little did he know, however, this is exactly what you wanted from him. To make you his bitch and you finally figured out how to do it. You thought to yourself that you had to do this more often if you wanted to have some genuine fun. Before you had time to breathe he grabbed you by your throat and started pounding even harder, he wanted to hear something from you like a painful grunt or a hurtful moan but you didn’t want him to get that kind of satisfaction either. It was slowly turning into a small war between you two, in good fun, where he tried to hurt you as much as possible while you were trying to remove all satisfaction from him as possible. He tried reaching into the nightstand so he could grab one of those aforementioned knives but they were all missing. He stared into your soul furiously and intensely asked you where they were. You simply smirked and shrugged your shoulders. That did it. He was so mad you could almost see smoke coming out of his nose and ears. He was already grabbing your throat, but while before he was doing it sort of playfully and letting you breathe you couldn’t say the same now. You literally couldn’t breathe and you were slowly losing your consciousness again. Before that could happen, however, you felt him breathing more heavily and his cock starting to throb again, he was cumming inside of you and he knew you hated that. He didn’t care; however, you were going to give back whatever you took from him, which was a peaceful day at home.
After he was done calming down and cleaning up he looked at your miserable body lying on the bed, dripping full of sweat and cum, with a huge red scar on your neck.
- Maybe you should uh… tell your coworkers that your cat did that.
A storm is a disturbance that might scare the hearts of many, but not yours. You have always enjoyed looking out the window during stormy days, hearing the rain tapping on the window while hearing the distant thunder roar with unimaginable might, a union of the utopian sky and the malformed earth. You saw many people and many couples as well, seeking refuge anywhere they could – inside restaurants, coffee shops and phone booths. Some of them even accepted the normalcy of said storm and embraced the rain. Just like a ruined day or a depressing mood all of these things do come and go. Although you did find funny that your boyfriend was simultaneously scared and was caring for you.
Every time a lightning struck he would slightly jump up, which made you giggle for a moment, and, in turn, make him happy as well. Despite this inconvenience, he was preparing some candles and some books he could read while you laid next to him in case the power did go out. Despite not looking like so, he appeared to be a savant and intelligent. You didn’t know where his ideals about morality came from, since he grew up in a dysfunctional household, but you knew for certain that they were more than just. He liked to help others in need even though he wasn’t doing so great himself, either physically and mentally. That mattered not, however, you were there to take care of him and you genuinely didn’t mind doing so. A soft smile and a misty-eyed look were more than enough of a reward for you.
You decided to go near him and help him out with some stuff like preparing some food that you could heat up in the fireplace later or just help set up the candles that were scattered around the rooms. The day was growing even dimmer, you couldn’t tell where the sun was and all of the electronics around the house were turned off in case a lightning struck. You were also bored out of your mind because you had nothing else to do, everything was prepared and you couldn’t do anything with Artie like watch TV or go outside for a walk. That’s when he told you to sit on the couch; apparently he had prepared something for you in occasions just as this one. You could feel yourself fumbling around with your own emotions; you didn’t know what to feel. You felt anxious because you didn’t have a lot of money and if he went out of his way to buy something for you then surely it must be expensive. You also felt happy; even though he usually doesn’t do these kinds of things (mostly because you want save your money up) it’s always nice to receive a gift from time to time. We he came back he was giggling to himself – he thought he found the gift that perfectly described you, although he refused to tell you what he had bought you and told you to hurry up, he wanted to see your face sparkle up like a light-ridded night sky. You tried to open it carefully, despite what Artie told you, because you wanted to keep the paper wrapping the present came in, all of these tiny things always meant a lot to you and you didn’t want to lose this one either. He gave you a Walkman and you couldn’t be more than happy. You were enthusiastic, in fact, because he knew you loved hearing music all of the time – it reminded you of moments passed and you always enjoyed reinforcing your emotions by listening to a song on the radio. He nervously told you that maybe if you could hear music everywhere you went you’d think about him more often. That, of course, was a silly statement, you already thought about him, anyway, but the gift in itself was amazing. You gave him a huge hug and told him that was everything you ever wanted which was, in fact, true. Walkman’s were pretty recent news at the time and having one made you feel extremely special, but now you kind of felt some remorse because you didn’t have something to give him back. You were going to excuse yourself after things had settled down so you could go buy something outside, but thunder struck and the light was now out. Luckily, your Walkman ran on batteries, so you could listen to it regardless of the weather, so you turned your little friend on and sat with your head on his shoulder until, eventually, both of you dozed off.
Those times were different times, and although you felt the same at the time you can’t tell if it’s true anymore. You still consider yourselves friends, that is, in all actuality, correct, but I guess feelings do fade over time, like youth and young love. However, you have kept your Walkman near and dear to your heart. It was the first time that someone outside of your family had loved you unconditionally and although you remember those times with not only some distress, you feel comfortable knowing that things deescalated naturally. The Walkman does still work, curiously, so you decided to go buy some cassette tapes near your pawn shop. They were expensive as all living hell, especially because they have to keep them in mint condition, even though people rarely listen to them anymore. You decided to come home and try the cassette tape out, and, wouldn’t you know it, it started raining. You started getting teary-eyed, like he once was, but you moved on inside despite what you were feeling. You laid on the couch and you heard the satisfying click of the Walkman. The music started playing with a little bit of static – the device was fifty years old at this point, it was honestly a surprise that it was still playing. Amazingly, the song that you had bought was the same one that you played when you first got the device – a rush of emotions filled you and you felt more than incredibly comfortable on your couch, like he was still there. Surrounded by such a positive aura, you decided you could finally get some rest knowing that love, no matter what kind, is eternal.
Author’s Note: I’ve had dissociation as long as I can remember. I feel like this is a disorder that has much to talk about, especially during CoVID where more and more people might seek refuge in dissociation. I have come to share my experience with it throughout the years and, hopefully, it will help you understand yourself as well.
Note: I’m probably going to write more chapters, but I have to find out how to express myself.
Belongs to: Unknown, Piqsels.com
Trigger Warnings: Existencialism, Self-Doubt, Mention of Suicide
Word count: 2200
What is dissociation? This answer may vary from person to person as all people who present this disorder don’t feel the same way. Perhaps it would be better if I gave an example. Imagine the following scenario - imagine you’re at a restaurant with your significant other and both of you order the same dish. Despite the fact that your lover does not like shrimp you decide that it would be a good idea for them to try it out, only for them to hate it, as they always have. Dissociation works quite in a similar fashion: while I may have more mundane experiences with dissociation that may be caused by my down to earth nature and rational thinking, a person who would be more impulsive and illogical would, certainly, experience different dissociative episodes and, in turn, be more or less affected by this disorder. Perhaps they imagine themselves as being a hero in their made-up world and the characters in those worlds being a mere reflection of the people they meet in real life. They travel through long and beautiful worlds while staying still on the same spot, thinking of a better life for themselves when they’re stuck on this Earth.
As for me this would be a completely different story. I imagine very mundane scenarios, all of them being very likely real, causing me to be unable to distinguish them from reality. If I had to make a real world comparison I’d say it’d be very similar to a movie projector from the 1950’s. You’re rewatching the same scenario over and over again until the roll burns out and you can’t relive it anymore. Until all emotions are drained from it like a sponge and my so-called real experiences get hurt in the process. I’ve always had a hard time recalling events from my past, even though I have an overall good memory. I think the problem lies in the fact that I can’t tell if I chose to forget those memories or if they have been washed up after being left for many years on the shore of life. Now they are deformed versions of their past selves, limbless abominations, if you will, and I have to complete them with what I see fit, but every time I try to do so I only create a half-starved chimera who begs to be put down. I feel as if I have to retry that process countless times until it seems believable not only to others, but also to me. And the memories I am able to recall are faded, as if I were remembering the time I remembered them. It seems weird, in an interesting way, that the human mind, in order to protect itself from its inner machinations, decides to shut down the “emotion lever” as to shield itself from what it cannot comprehend. I’m sure many others face a similar issue, being trapped in their own minds like rats in a maze, unable to understand the complexity of their jail while imprisoned in their own distress. I wish there were a more simple solution to this disorder, but it seems to be caused by unbelievable amounts of stress and, interestingly, I don’t seem to recall the event that started this whole journey. Was it parental neglect and the ever-excruciating need to be heard? My parents do seem to love me now, but people do change and they can always fake their emotions. Or perhaps it might have been peer rejection? I do have people I can call friends at the moment, but I do remember feeling left out and excluded from every social group I’ve known, except for a small group of people, who, to this day, I still call friends. Or maybe all of these situations are complex alternate realities that my imagination has brought forth and modeled to my liking. This is, without a doubt, one of the worse things about dissociation. The inability to distinguish real, livable moments from imagined perceptions of reality.
I want you to imagine the following: imagine you have two choices for breakfast, you either eat cereal or you eat a sandwich. I know reality isn’t as simple, but for simplicity’s sake I’m dumbing down the argument. Now you decide to eat the cereal, but your mind later tells you repeatedly that you should’ve eaten the sandwich because you would’ve enjoyed it more and it simulates the smell and taste of said sandwich and, by the time someone asks you what you ate for breakfast you couldn’t tell them what you had. You’ve felt the experience of eating both, their taste, their smell and seeing them right in front of your eyes. Without physical evidence of you eating said cereal, for example, a bit of cereal stuck in your gum, you wouldn’t know that you ate it. If we now apply that to actual scenarios it becomes tens, if not hundreds, times more complicated. “Did I hang out with this person? Have I ever told them about an intimate secret that they should know for their own sake?” These questions float around in my subconscious and I try to make an effort as to not get consumed by more existential thoughts. The best solution my incomprehensible mind has found was deleting any and all memories I had until only their hollow remnants remained, some sort of apoptosis, if you will. On one end this manages to work out quite well - I no longer have to worry about my memories being faked or transmogrified because I know all of them aren’t real, at least to their full extent. The only times I do recall events is when other people remind me they happened or when I pick up an old object that I still hold dearly to my heart, like stuffed toys or old trinkets and charms I have lying about. On the other hand, however, I am an empty husk without any sort of experience I can tell people about, a modeless play-doh that still needs to be reshapen. In my personal opinion, this might also be the reason why I can relate so much to other people. I assimilate the parts of their personality that they show me, or that they find attractive or engaging, leaving me with a stronger bond with that person in particular. Since I don’t talk to only one person, however, it’s to assume that I have many personalities inside my own mind, each one catered for the person I’m talking with. I also have a feeling I have a “base” personality that’s friendly and welcoming that, in its due time, develops into what the person likes. If I’m interacting with a more extroverted, outgoing person I might be more careless and unaffectionate, as they simply want to have fun, but more introverted or just overall shy people need someone who cares for them and treats them kindly, something I can also very much offer. Although this leaves me with a problematic conundrum – who am I, in reality? Am I the carefree, enthusiastic person, just like person A, or am I shy and caring like I am with person B? Am I an entirely different person whom I haven’t discovered yet? A mumbling freak with no personality of their own, who fumbles around for scraps of personality from my ever-darkening mind? Some of these questions I haven’t been able to answer for months. If I don’t have a sense of self-identity, how can someone love me for the person I am, and not for the projection I show them? And if I don’t know who I am, how will they? Some people have tried to read me before but I always find something that’s quite not right, and I legitimately don’t know if they’re right and I can’t admit it or if they’re wrong and I still incorporate the personality trait they have listed off.
Of course, like other people who suffer from dissociation, you might find yourself with this puzzling task. Fret not; the solution may be closer at hand than you think. For you to discover yourself you have to try out new things without any sort of peer pressure or anxiety issues. If you’re shy or antisocial, like I once was, you should try going to small events and see how much you like them – that being bars, small, indie concerts, parties with a close group of friends, whatever peaks your interest. If you don’t enjoy those types of events it’s completely okay, not everyone enjoys everything and you shouldn’t force yourself to do them. You don’t need to force yourself to do something just because it’s normal. You can be a closeted bookworm or a nymphomaniac extrovert, it does not matter, just do things that you find interesting, within the boundaries of morality and legality, of course. If I were to be honest, I, and many others, find people who aren’t “normal” fun. They usually have many more stories to tell, be them fictional or real. People who follow the norm just because they want to be accepted socially usually don’t have many stories to tell, and if they do you can and will hear that story many a time from them or from other people, since they usually hang out in large groups just to feel accepted. I’m not saying that these people are completely uninteresting, however, but their need to hang out in groups leaves them with little to no unique experiences of their own.
With that out of the way I’d like to move onto a different topic: dissociative amnesia. For those who aren’t familiar with the term, it can be divided into three categories, which I will not go in depth here, but it basically represents a lack of memories from a specific time or from specific events. Although many people won’t have this issue at all, since it only occurs in 1% of the male population who suffer from dissociation or 2.6% of the female population, I still find it important to mention this issue. I feel like I don’t remember myself from my childhood, as if all those memories had been forcefully removed from my mind, for one reason or another, that the only memories I do, in fact, have are extraordinarily recent. I do recall some events from my childhood but I also feel like most of them have been lost to time. This has always been quite troubling, not only to find and maintain a sense of identity, but also to keep a conversation flowing smoothly. I have met many people before who have asked me to tell them some interesting facts about my life but I’m always dumbfounded and out of words because I don’t know who I am, I can’t tell them something about me. I’ve seen a lot of things in my life, you can take my word for it, but I can’t remember them, for the life of me. Sometimes I wonder if remembering my entire life would be a better option. At least if I remembered what I lived through I’d be able to decide if I wanted to forget those things or not. It just feels like most of the stuff I remember about my life as a child was uncomfortable or straight-up depressing. The first time I proposed to a girl I immediately got rejected because of my own stupidity. I lived in a fantasy world, even back then, and I legitimately had no clue what to do. My friends did say I was romantic, but I know they were only calming me down so I wouldn’t look even more like a clown. If I were to be honest, life is a vicious cycle of momentum – if you don’t hang out with people you won’t know how to socialize and if you don’t socialize you won’t be able to hang out with people. I understand now that it’s a difficult cycle to break, luckily I have been able to exit it because I moved into a different environment and I finally feel like I’m starting to understand myself, but I still find myself without a feeling of uniqueness. I notice that I’m not myself still, that this more “party animal” personality I have was created because of the people I met in the past. It was my cliché version of an out-going personality should be and it managed to work out, despite all of my expectations.
I remember mentioning that my dissociative episodes were very mundane, yet I failed to give an explanation as to why. I know there is a difference between daydreaming and dissociating, those two concepts are very much alike, but they differ in small ways. I feel as if I can’t pay attention to anything. If I try to I start imagining literally any other thing – it might be the person talking, but I won’t hear any sound; or perhaps, even, that we’re in a completely different environment. If I’ve been with that person for a long time I might imagine us in different situations, as if we were on the beach or watching the sun set. However, since I’m stuck in my own imagination, I can’t remember anything they’ve said. I usually blame it on something else, like my bad hearing, which is partly true, but I guess I’m too afraid to admit that I wasn’t paying attention. Consciously, I feel like this isn’t my fault, but I have to spend so much time explaining this feeling that I don’t know if it’s worth it. On the other hand, they might also not understand what I mean and think I’d be playing them like a fiddle. I can’t trust anyone, no matter how long I’ve known them for – I don’t know if they’re wearing a façade and pretending to be my friend only to, later, have the “last laugh”.
