#spruce dies

[mushroomsinmyeye]

… i think my dad chose me.

now i have to wait and see if he lives up to his choice. to see if he actually quits.

[mushroomsinmyeye]

this morning is the day everything changes, one way or another.

my dad is a functioning alcoholic. he has been verbally abusing me for almost a year now, after he fell back into his addiction.

he loves me. i know he does. but he’s hurting both me and my mother.

this morning, my mother is confronting him. he will be given two options. stop drinking, or me and my mother flee the house.

people who should probably hear about this, and know me in real life, therefore are directly correlated to the matter: @damianrulez @rykerthebread @m3try @duskiwolf

people who may want to hear about this, but aren’t directly correlated to the matter: @sorribu @leyrens @annax-and-a-lot-more @totallynottangy @cdboiperson @turtleduckie-is-the-goat

i can only pray something good comes out of this morning. there’s only so much i can take. i know i can act pretty… mature on here, talk about mature subjects and media, and i am on the older side of being a minor… but i am still a child. my brain is still developing. I’m only 16, and i know i’m preaching to the choir here, as most of my mutuals and followers are most likely also teens, but… a lot of the time i tend to forget i am, in fact, a child, even if i don’t feel like one. and that i’m still vulnerable. and that this is going to leave a mark on me for the rest of my life. and it’s hard when you can physically tell something is going to haunt you all your life, and it’s by someone who genuinely loves you and doesnt know they’re hurting you. i love my father. he had been a good father for most of my life, i know that, i know that with perfect certainty. but… he’s hurting everyone. including himself. and he doesn’t know it. he thinks he has it under control, because he’s still functional. he has a great job, he does hobbies, but… when you wake up first thing in the morning to go get alcohol and drink and drink and drink until you can’t balance yourself anymore, and in the evening you burst into your child’s room with no provocation just to yell at them as they were on the phone with their friend, and make them too scared to even look at your face, because all they can see when they look at you is your father who hurt them the same way, with the same switch-ups, the same stare, the same misplaced smile as they say they would never hurt you in the same breath they just did.

he only cares about physical wounds. and all he wants when he’s drunk is something to fight. something to blame. something to get a reaction out of. and unfortunately, when push comes to shove, scaring your child until they can’t breath, shaking and forcing every muscle in their throat to ease so they can speak in a steady tone and forcing every emotion back other than joy just so you can leave faster, is the ultimate reaction. and i have no power by myself to stop it.

i… i hope he makes the right choice. for my sake, for my mom’s sake, and especially his own sake.

i don’t know when my mother will be talking to him. it may not even actually be this morning, because he has to go somewhere and it may interfere with me and my mother’s plans. i will keep you all updated.

i never thought it would get this bad. and its… such a gray area. because even if he is hurting me… he doesnt know that. and he loves me, its painfully obvious, and that makes it hurt more. i never, ever, once in my god fucking life… thought it would get to this point. where i’m afraid to leave my room, in fear i’ll see him. he’s become an intruder. a corpse. something mimicking what a human should do. that’s what it’s like to look at him when he’s drunk. i would usually make a joke at this point, try to lighten up my situation with a bit of humor, that’s how i cope after all, but… i can’t bring myself to. not now. not when the very course of my life hinges on today, on how my father reacts to today. please, for everything good and holy… i hope he loves me more than he loves escaping. more than his own childhood trauma affected him. please, please please please… if i get children, if i ever interact with children or adopt children… please let me break this chain of generational trauma. i won’t ever be able to forgive myself if i ever treat a child like my father did me.

wish me luck. pray i don’t need it.

[mushroomsinmyeye]

I CANT FUCKING DRAW BECAUSE MY SCREEN IS CRACKED IM GONNA KILL EVERYONE AUAGUSNHNSHBAHBAHBA

[mushroomsinmyeye]

THIS IS IMPORTANT.

As of right now, my mom thought it was a good idea to search up my persona’s name, JESTARR, on google.

I don’t know if she saw or found this account, but I’m scared. This has been a safe space for me to share and express everything I couldn’t in real life, and I haven’t expressed it for good reason. My parents are homophobic, transphobic, and in general have a pretty “back in my day” way of thinking.

Me being trans, agender, pansexual, being plural, all my interests, art, hobbies, vents, everything is currently at risk.

I hid these things for a reason, I didn’t want them to know, I didn’t know how they would react, I didn’t want to be some sort of fuck-up disappointment for them. I was going to do some grand reveal once I got out of the house, once I knew I would be safe to express myself, and would be safe of any negative reactions my parents had.

last time, all they did was figure out I was pan, that was it, and they sat me down and cried and cried and told me that “they missed the younger me”. I’m scared about how they would react if they found out about all this as well, if they found out if I never actually “became straight again”.

if either of my parents are reading this. Please. Just let me have this. Pretend you never saw this, wipe it from your memory, please, just let me have one singular space where I can be accepted without feeling like a mistake or some sort of amalgam who slipped under the radar. Hell, keep calling me a girl, keep asking when I’m getting a boyfriend, keep doing it, I don’t care anymore, I’ve grown numb to it, I’ve realized you’re not going to change but please, don’t confront me about this. I can’t handle it. I’ll kill myself before I have to come to terms that you know before I felt okay with you knowing. That isn’t a joke. I’ll do it. I’ll overdose the second that conversation happens. I’m stable. I’m supposed to be stable, everything is working out for me right now please don’t take this from me. Please.

I love you, mom and dad, I’m sorry that I’ve had to hide this from you. I didn’t know how you’d react, but I knew you wouldn’t be happy for me. My therapist knows everything.

and for everyone else. This might be my final post here on tumblr. I wish you all good luck.

people who need to see this, and open tags, as usual. v

@sorribu @the-big-rig @cdboiperson @turtleduckie-is-the-goat @felix-da-teddy930 @rykerthebread

[mushroomsinmyeye]

I HAVE LUNGS BUT CANNOT BREATHE I HAVE A STUFFY NOSE RAGHHHHH

[mushroomsinmyeye]

I think we’re okay. (About last post)

[mushroomsinmyeye]

cngt brthe

[mushroomsinmyeye]

well two of my cars just got totaled

I just got out of the fucking bath dude what the hell