“ -- So here’s the thing.” Rose plopped into the seat across from him, a table at one of the local outdoor cafes, without any hesitation. Cigarette between the middle and pointer fingers of her right hand, she took a quick drag before continuing to speak. “-- I’ve been tracking some runners, and I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of where their safehouse might be. I’ve been doing my research since getting into Matchak, and well, I’ve had some help.” She tapped her forehead with a wide, lazy grin as she leaned back in the chair.
Her foresight was hepful at times, and this had certainly been one of those times. Not oly had she had flashes of the runners she’d been tracing for a few weeks, but had had a flash of Red Hood giving her a hand with things. She hadn’t known Jason was in Sokovia, though probably should have guessed, what with the rest of everyone else she’d been running into lately. A few puffs from her inhaler to help her along and sure enough her vision went white in the way it always did before she saw the future, and she saw Jason Todd right where he sat right now.
“But the thing is, I can’t exactly do it as Ravager -- it’s complicated, I’m on a few lists, blah blah blah. You know how it goes.” She waved the hand with the cigarette in it before bringing it to her lips again. Except he couldn’t really know how it goes, considering she was with the ISA now. Rose Wilson had sold to the highest bidder. Any and all mercenary work was absolutely outlined as a big no-no in her contract, but...
“So, whatcha say? Up for a good, ol’ fashioned drug ring bust?” That smile was still in place, and Rose sat up now in her chair, leaning forward to prop her elbows on the table. “Also, hey. Long time no see. Glad to see you made it out of Malta, that got kinda sketchy at the end there.”
I need to vent some. It won't end well for me otherwise.
This is gonna get pretty long and wordy. And don’t feel like you have to read this whole thing, please. I just wrote this down to get the thoughts out, so I don’t end up feeling worse later on.
Have any of you guys ever gone to sleep, mostly fine, then wake up the next day feeling like absolute shit? That happened to me last night for the first time in a while.
It started off with me getting migraines near the end of my shift. I don't get migraines, I get allergy-induced headaches, and that's pretty much it.
My point is, I fell asleep last night and woke up this afternoon feeling awful, cuz of a dream. I was going through comments on my Tumblr, Twitter, and AO3 account.
And I found some pretty hateful/mean things people commented, either on things I've created or through DMs.
Look, I know not everyone is going to like what I write or draw; figured that out pretty quick when I used to have my brother proof-read for me a couple years back. But it still hurt, really bad, despite just being a dream/nightmare. I get these every so often.
What made it worse was the fact that the comments were said by people I admire on all three platforms. They doubted I'd ever finish that one story I've worked on for months.
Usually when I wake up from something like this, I don't want to get out of bed for the rest of the day, and I end up sleeping into the next morning and sometimes into the next afternoon. And I usually end up feeling even more drained than before.
But today, it was weird. I woke up and felt empty almost. Like I just couldn't feel anything, couldn't feel what I should have. Which is mainly self-depreciation and sadness. If you couldn't tell from this thread, I'm sensitive towards certain things.
Don't get me wrong, I can take the criticism, but when others thoughts mirror my own? That's when it gets to be too much for me.
A few years ago, I had troubles. Still do, to be completely honest, I'm just better at ignoring them. I felt like I was annoying the shit out of people when I spoke about things I was doing or was gonna do.
(I honestly feel like just posting this thread it gonna annoy the shit out of people, so if you're actually seeing this, then I've improved somewhat.)
I don't know if they had other stuff on their minds at the time, but they just weren't all there when I talked. That sounds kind of narcissistic, but I needed that little extra signal, cuz I wasn't exposed to lots of people when I was younger.
(There wasn't anything wrong with me when I was a kid, I just wasn't comfortable around large groups or strangers.)
Eventually, it got to the point that I would just stop talking and I would retreat inside my own head. Sometimes it lasted for a few minutes, others it lasted the rest of the day. I'd start getting myself down with my words, and I'd likely stay that way for a while.
Getting back to the actual point of this thread, when other's thoughts start to reflect my own in regards to my work, I can't handle it. Say whatever you want about it, I just can't do it. And I've tried, believe me I've tried.
But it's not like trying to stop biting your nails. I've had issues with this since I was in elementary school (so since I was like eight or nine). And it's not easy. Constantly, I seek out validation from others, and when nothing's there, I just... shut down, I guess.
And even when I do seek out validation, I always have a struggle with myself:
"Don't send them that, they'll think you're weird."
"They look busy. Don't bother them with nothing."
Fuck, even typing out those words is making me shaky, cuz I can't help but remember all the times I've said them. All the times I've had to stop myself from interacting with people.
But when my stuff does get validated, I get this sense of joy, y’know? Like, finally, someone appreciates what I’ve done and what I have to offer; someone other than my family or close friends... (don’t hate me, @lier3nn, you’re still my closest friend off this site and I appreciate you sticking with me, I do)
On Tumblr or Twitter, it's at least a little easier to interact with others. I don't really use my given name all that much on these type of sites; I either use the one I made up years ago (YXxXxXY) or my middle name (Rose). It gives me a sense of anonymity that I wouldn't get if I used my real name.
But you can only have one first impression, and whatever it is, people will remember you for it. Maybe that's why I hated middle and high school, cuz you only get one shot to make it count. And more often than not I fuck it up.
And I live with the regrets every day: "What would have happened if...?" Even now, I'm second-guessing posting this. I'm afraid of what others will think. Is that weird of me? Any of you seeing this is a complete stranger to me, yet I'm still worried.
Yeah, I know that I'm not the only one who feels this way. That was made painfully obvious in school. But I'm the only one I know that feels it. Like, I don't know anyone else well enough to know if they feel the same way. And that's probably my fault more than anything.
I have friends, I do. But not deep enough to know how they feel about certain things. And whenever I want to know if they feel the same things, I always freeze. I crawl into my head again and don't come out. To me, that's better than embarrassing myself.
(But the fact that I’m opening up to complete strangers doesn’t bother me in the slightest, apparently.)
And I can't bring myself to actually ask them. Like I'd be prying into their personal life too much if I did...
I get into these funks every once in a while. This is just the first time it’s happened and centered around people doubting my stuff the same way I doubt my stuff. You’re your own worst enemy, right? Fucking philosophical bullshit that makes complete sense. But, I digress. Sometimes it’s better for me if I just get the words out; if I just say them out loud. You don’t even have to read or respond to this, and I’d already be feeling better just because I’ve written these words down. I’d have already started getting past it. I’ve travelled that path, and now it’s in the past. And I’d keep going, doing only what I could do (writing, for one. No one is gonna write what I want, so I have to, right?
... Still. There’s always a little part of me that is seeking validation through this post. And no matter what reaction it gets -- positive or negative -- it’ll always be at the back of my mind. So maybe I haven’t started getting over it. Not yet.
But I will, one day. It might take my entire life, or just a few hours. But I will get over it.
