hi guys. I'm sorry I said I'd update my fics then disappeared...life is hard. Last year, after my dad died, I first had an argument with the family doctor who treated him like shit, and I lost my patience and insulted him in front of ppl, then I wrote a negative review about him on google, like ppl always do right? well this asshole went to the police and pressed charges against me, so now I have a penal case on me, which is scary. Not like going to jail scary but like having a criminal record anyway....for a fucking review. I am so ashamed of this I'd like to disappear from the universe, because it brought shame to my family, and problems, as this costs money, to pay a lawyer, to pay for the fine I'll surely have when this ends, and it's long cause italian law is long and not efficient or fair, maybe to pay for 'moral damage' if this asshole continues, when the moral damages for treating my ill father like shit I should have sued him for, if I had money to waste. And I was born wealthier, and raised as such, so it's very depressing and angering for me to think that in the past this would have been solved easily, with a compromise, offering him a big sum of money and making him close the case (legally I mean), but since my father himself made financial mistakes, it's not possible, and the only possible solution is to do social work for who knows how long, so for the whole time I'll be reminded of my mistake, of how badly my father died, of how shitty my life is, how unfair, because how many ppl write negative reviews and nothing happens, but this asshole was set on making me pay, playing the victim when he literally told us to use earplugs if my father screamed in pain, since he was dumb from dementia. But nope, he doesn't pay, I have to.
So basically to put my problems in perspective I have to remind myself of all the ppl who have it worse than me, like ppl who live in countries in war, women in countries that don't give them rights, and so on. But you know, there are also ppl who have it better, ppl who do bad things and get away with it, ppl whose father didn't make messes before getting ill and dying badly, leaving his daughter in this shitty situation.
anyway, all this boring stuff cause I guess I needed to vent, and cause my mental state isn't great, so I can't focus on anything. Sorry.
the last idiot of 2022, bitching in other ppl’s blogs without a reason, is:
i don’t even get why they had to bitch in this specific post, guess they like the censorship and the fake moralist fandom trend even if apparently they are an author. but not all fic authors are good authors, or clever ppl, so it makes sense. happy new year bitch (and all ppl like them)
It's the month of the dead in my country so it's fitting i guess. Not less painful though.
(personal post about death. read at your own risk)
He had been mentally ill for the last years but he had some other physical problem that doctors didn’t understand, or paid attention to, claiming it was his mental illness so if he said he was in pain or screamed in pain, or refused to eat, it wasn’t real. Until we had to call an ambulance and he was rushed to the hospital where, because of f*cking covid, we could only visit 10 minutes each day.
Since more than a year my father didn’t recognize me or my sister. He was impossible to deal with on certain occasions, he could be aggressive and noisy, but some times he was kind of cute, funny and affectionate. When he was in a good mood he thought that our home was some vacation resort, or the hall for a congress of his political party. When he was in a bad mood he he would scream for help or try to escape, break stuff and more, having crazy hallucinations where he was held hostage by the fascists.
The last cute memory I have of him is from a few days before hospitalization. We made him sit in the kitchen and when he said he was tired and I told him that we could move him in his bed, he refused, saying that he wanted to stay with the 2 of us, my sister and I. It meant that even if he didn’t know who we were he kinda loved us and enjoyed our company. It was important.
In the hospital he was sedated and unconscious. Only my mother saw him conscious, although hallucinating. I never understood if he was dreaming or looking at me through half closed eyes, cause I saw his pupils were moving. The last time I visited my father was Sunday 15th. I told him that I had a job interview the day after. I prayed that he would get better and come home again, even though my mother and sister prayed that he would stop suffering, because he was suffering a lot and the doctor had told us that he was going to die. But I always pray for miracles, and get desperate when they don’t happen.
I couldn’t visit my father the day after because that job interview was at visit time. I wasn’t called back so I guess I didn’t get the job, and I missed the opportunity to see him alive, because he died that night and what I saw next was his dead body. An image that haunts me whenever I least expect it.
I was called in the middle of the night. We were given his stuff in a garbage bag. We brought clothes for him and spent the customary 3 days at the morgue. In his hand my mom put the rosary, I put the flower of his political party he loved so much. We also put on his blazer the badge of a congress they held in the past, which he had been enthusiastic about. I also put a photo of us, him holding child me in his arms during one of the many political occasions he attended.
One of the consequences of his loss of memory was the loss of contacts, because ppl don’t call anymore if when they notice it. So when we posted the information about his death on his facebook page, that he had stopped using ages ago, we were surprised that some old friends and even a couple of kinda big shots in his party came at the funeral.
One of the consequences of his loss of memory, and subsequent change of personality was that people around, such as I, basically forgot what kind of person he used to be when his mind was ok, so much that only when I was going through his clothes and stuff, to bring it to the morgue, I remembered and I realized that even though I, and my family, loved the mentally ill person we took care of for years, I had greatly missed the person my father used to be.
He was an extravert who liked to talk to people, he was always helpful even towards strangers. He loved driving and travelling so he would do crazy trips to help random acquaintances. He was so passionate about his political party. He was a political journalist, in fact, and he was so crazily loyal to a longtime friend who later became a big politician, that when a scandal had destroyed the party and that friend’s reputation, he was put in jail for a week, not because he had done something but because the police wanted him to spill secrets, and released him when he didn’t.
I was actually kinda jealous of his dedication to that stuff, because it meant the opposite towards the family, even though he gave us a stable financial condition and never refused to pay for stuff or trips or whatever. He supported us, although in his own way, because he had his own ideas and he was kinda sexist in a stupid, old fashioned way even tho at the same time he was the least homophobic person from his generation I’ve seen, like, I remember him advocating lgbt+ marriage when I didn’t even know what it was.
He was very positive and optimistic, but in the last years he spilled out a trauma he never voiced out. He was born with a malformation in a hand and feet, he went through surgery as soon as it was possible but before that he had been bullied by other children. He was tactless, in a funny embarrassing way, but he didn’t mean evil. He provided for his older brother until said brother died, when I learned their family was ashamed of him because in his youth he did drag queen-ish shows in their southern small town.
I think because of all this my father kinda felt my being ‘weird’ in clothes, taste &co, despite not knowing anything about avpd or ocd or anything, because even if we had a totally different personality, life goals, ideals and general approach, he wanted me to feel safe, so he kinda protected me in his peculiar way, even though he didn't understand me, my personality, my taste in everything. He was more similar to my sister. Like, when I often went to a goth-punk club he always told me “oh you wore your uniform again, it’s that time of the week”...whenever I broke up he was sure that the guy was gay but he hadn’t realized it yet. He made me learn about our financial situation so I would take care of it later. He took me to buy the car that would be his last one, making me try it, saying that I would use it after him, which I did cause his mental conditions didn’t allow him to drive not long after he bought it.
It was really, really hard to deal with him in the last 2 years. Before the pandemic it was easier, a little sad, but we created a routine, I would take him to places nearby cause he hated to stay at home, we would have coffee and chat about random things that he would soon forget. He kinda learned the name of the singer I liked a lot back then, once we even watched a tv show where said singer was invited, he kinda insisted to watch it together, we never did such things because he was also hard of hearing and I have misophonia, so loud noises and chewing sounds have a terrible effect on me, like, I can get really angry and nervous.
I could tell him that I had a girlfriend, even before I told my mom and sister. Said gf even visited from her country, right before the virus made borders close. He didn't understand much but he liked her and when she left he said that if I wanted to ‘get close to her’ he'd be happy.
I knew I would suffer his loss, ofc, but I didn’t imagine that his absence would weigh so much, because technically he wasn't doing anything ‘useful’ for the family since years, we in fact were doing everything, but it doesn’t mean anything. We would take him along for errands when he still could, and going to the same places now is painful, cause now I realize how every little moment counts, and that now that he’s gone all those embarrassing or hard moments are less heavy than they seemed back then. As if, contrarily to what I thought back then, the hardest part wasn’t that. It’s now, when I can’t sleep properly, I don’t have the comfort of a strong faith unlike my mother, when things that used to ‘matter’ as a distraction or a passion, like fanfiction writing or fandom stuff, are so pointless. Even more so, a waste of time. Even though distraction is important.
I’ll close asks again cause I felt like writing this but I don’t feel like interacting with anyone. I don’t even feel like replying to messages related to this from kind ppl who’ll want to send me nice supporting words or their experience. I’m kinda negative and angry, and lost, and I don’t react always nicely to supporting words and/or comparisons, even when they mean well.
(if you aren’t in an abusive household) give your dad a hug, spend some time with him for me. pls.
totally not Nar related rant under readmore. feel free to skip
My father became mentally ill as he got older. He’s like a clock, functioning or malfunctioning depending on the time of the day, and there’s no medicine that really works. But this is not the point of my rant.
The point is that some of his crazy behavior pattern, like taking one little random event and making it bigger and crazier until he can make a scene out of nothing and have everyone’s attention with his paranoid stories where he’s the victim of who knows which conspiracy, remind me of the crazy tumblr person who made my online life hell for like 2 years, more or less after the nar ending.
It’s been a lot since it’s over but sometimes I still remember how much time and energy that b*tch took from me, lying about herself and her life, trying to put me against my friends online and offline, using nar characters as comparisons for me, her, others, and manipulating me completely.
Tbh the fault is mine, because I sensed that something was off since the beginning, but I felt alone cause my friends and I had taken different paths in life, and my bf from back then was...huh..complicated, and even tho the more I interacted with that person the weirder vibe I got, I still did it because I was stupid and curious and my INTJ’s NI was kinda tingling with ‘what if’ lolol but it’s wrong and manipulators, narcissists and psychopaths should be isolated immediately. Also I didn’t realize that she was like this, only later, when I cut her off my life (and I had to deal with her insults in private emails and chat, not to mention her veiled insults in her tags) I started reading about this kind of people and understood.
Anyway, now that I see my father making his scenes, even tho he’s mentally ill with a totally different problem, I see her pattern of behavior and wow. I wouldn’t have wanted my father to get crazy earlier than he did but I kinda wonder if I would have been more prepared in this case. I would have saved more than 2 years of my life, because some ppl drain you so much that even turning the computer off and going out isn’t enough.
If Itachi and Sasuke are transported to a modern AU with Itachi retaining his canon memories, would Itachi pursue Sasuke after realising that he (Itachi) has feelings for him? (In this modern AU, they are not brothers and it is socially acceptable to be with someone of the same sex/gender)
It looks like this is your AU with your rules, not mine. so it will follow what you want to happen. For me it doesn't make much sense sorry
