Maturing is realising you needed to cut them off despite all the good times because of how drained and shitty they made you feel
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Maturing is realising you needed to cut them off despite all the good times because of how drained and shitty they made you feel
how second semester is like rn
learning to sleep through my own lullaby of thoughts ·.༄࿔
I’ve really wanted to write stuff abt cod for a long time now. But I was afraid it wouldn’t be good until I got 973627282727 posts a day telling me to just do it. So here we go!
You hated Captain John Price since the first day you saw him. But why, you ask? Simple, he was everything you were missing as a kid. You had an emotionally unstable mother and an emotionally absent father. You thought the trauma and baggage only made you stronger. Cause you did the damn thing and survived it all. You moved on and became a better person and forgot all about that stuff. So, why is it all coming back now? The way he treats you and the others makes your skin tingle.
The way you can hear him and Simon at night through the thin walls after another one of Si’s bad nightmares. The way Price knows exactly how to calm the Scot down when the weigh of religious trauma catches Johnny’s ass on a random Tuesday. The way you can visibly see Kyle relax and come back to reality when he starts to remember his fall out the chopper by Price putting a simple hand on his chest and huffing out the words, “deep breaths son.”, to ease all his worries.
Except it’s hard to truly despise this man. During late nights when everything starts to feel impossible, he’ll know. He’ll know and mosy his way right on in your room and sit next to your horizontal form. You don’t even fake sleeping since you know he can tell. Warm, rough hand on your shoulder gently rubbing back and forth till you fall asleep. You hear the words, “sleep tight, kiddo” before snuggling into a comforting slumber for the first time in a long while.
It feels heavier than it seems
If you feel drained around them, they are not for you.
Night makes room for pain.
But morning? Morning expects you to rise.
To brush your teeth.
To answer messages.
To function.
No one asks how you survived the dark.
They just notice you look tired.
There’s no badge for dragging yourself out of bed when your chest feels like it’s caving in.
No applause for eating half a granola bar with shaking hands.
No parade for breathing through the ache.
But I’m here.
Still.
Somehow.
Again.
And maybe that’s enough.
At least for this morning.