#tw face picking

[seraphbliss]

apr. 1 happy april fool's day x_x

march wanted to see me rot and enter spring as nutrients for the newly emerging flora. at times i wish i took the offer. i feel like i keep ruining shit. the month droned on and on and on, and i realized some things. times are changing and so am i. it's better that my expansive friend group has narrowed down to three people—not everyone around me want to see me change. to be honest, i don't know if i'm changing in ways i like, either.

theres a lingering guilt that sits beside me on the bus. i walk home with it, watch it watch me from my window. no conflict started this month had a resolution. my friend updates me on people i've lost. i feel like a unwilling voyeur. i know why she does it, but it feels like the hour after i scrutinize my face: flakey, bleeding scabs that are painful to look at, worse to touch. it's my fault she does it. had i not fell out with those people she wouldn't want to tell me about their seemingly loser-esque lives. but it doesn't bring me peace. instead, i feel confused and even hypocritical. it's not like i feel too good at the moment, either. i'll never pretend to be holier than thou when it comes to drama. i hate speaking in those terms. i don't throw stones and hide my hand. in fact, i will tell you when i'm throwing the stone and how hard. i'm pro confrontation because i'm pro let's get this shit over with. but that's not happening at the moment. i think it's time that i stop this entire mess from sprawling further than what it already has. other people that i care about, that had nothing to do with the initial conflict, are negatively impacted by it, and for that i feel responsible. this morning i sit across from someone i know i need to stop being friends with and smile and wave. i'm acting like one of the things i hate the most: a coward. a wise victoria walker once said, "it hurts now to smile, it hurts more to breathe. it makes me so angry, all i do is grit my teeth."

i found my dad's facebook, and i am like him, i guess. there's something to be said about how i look most like him when i'm smiling hard. i'm in an odd spot in my transition where i pass online and nowhere else. i hope that in auckland i can medically transition without many social or emotional hiccups. i'm giving up a lot by going. honestly, i'm giving up everything that i wanted to keep and the remainder is what i've been trying to get away from for so long. five months before i'm eighteen when i'll be starting uni, and after, i'll be on my own. in those five months, i'll be in this weird limbo still with my mom. i don't think it's fair that i still have to play pretend while everything in my life moves on, just to appease my mom. its fucked that i have to, since my conditional offer requires that she be there until i'm an adult. i mean it when i say all i do is take shit on the chin. it's just annoying to deal with at this point. when people tell you who they are, believe them. this goes both ways.

i quit my job saturday. i feel good about this even though i'll miss my coworkers and the environment. i need money for the summer. my birthday is in july, and i plan to make the most of this extended vacation before college. i don't want to grow up, in all honesty. i say that, ignoring that i already have. i take on an extended amount of responsibilities for someone my age. i'm probably well off for it, but damn does it suck to be so disillusioned so young. so, my summer break will be real nostalgic. movie marathons with my grandma, super soakers, crackly nail polish. i owe it to myself to enjoy it without guilt. i expect to have several sd cards full of my memories captured in my digicam.

getting better at capturing likeness. i accidentally happened upon creating a self portrait. i look good as a man and it shows. i do keep up with my appearance to an obsessive extent at times, which leads to all the gross acne scars and scabs i have on my skin. if only i were a creature of habit instead of mania—i could just do my skincare routine instead of picking at my face until it bleeds. all for the sake of aurafarming. sunday night i went buck wild trying to capture my image in video. i think the reason i had such a hard time was because i didn't have vine or musically as a kid, and didn't post myself during the short time that i had tiktok two years ago. i can't say i'm unnatural in front of cameras, because i will take many pictures of myself pretty frequently. i'm being reminded of when i was punished by my dad for having a lot of selfies and being called conceited for it. i know i'm vain, but i still find that hilarious. it was not funny at the time, though.

i'm still over dating and relationships but i will always be an attention whore. the huzz luv tanz but not enough to really care that much. most people are just imagining who they want me to be so i'm disengaged from the start. roster so dry i'm disgusted by everyone on it (1.5 persons). thankful that i'm over that one guy from last october. it's true, you really do just realize you've moved on while getting ready for work one day several months removed.

looking forward to lots of music this month. definitely 2hollis getting the first listen on friday. waiting patiently for unmusique, pinkpantheress mixtape too. i'm going to buy my bôa ticket towards the end of the month. starting my new side job at the racetrack, which i'm actually excited for. i've always been vaguely interested in racing and cars from an aesthetic standpoint. the technical aspects seem too confusing for me to get into it at this point. maybe that will change soon. i still haven't gotten that macbook—ebayK i will be winning a bid this month even if i need to threaten someone to do so. i have therapy for the first time in about three years today. i'll probably begin to talk about those sessions here. despite the absolute bullshit that was march, i think april will look better for me.

[femalefemur]

Confessions.

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

warnings: depression, face picking, changing for someone else, please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 900

synopsis: Johnny agonises over his confession to Simon.

A/N: I don't know I just wanted to make him sad, also I am very sleepy so if you see a mistake no you didn't <3

Something about Johnny slowly falling in love with Simon, all the little quips and jokes he makes winning Johnny over. He loves how Simon is the only one who ever calls him Johnny, loves how Simon always checks on him first after a mission no matter how well it went. He loves that he's the only one who gets to call Simon LT, that he's the only one who can press up against the infamous Ghost and live to tell the tale, that he's the only one Simon trusts enough to see him regularly unmasked, not even Price gets that privilege. Every single thing just making him fall more and more in love with the man.

So it comes as no surprise when he finds himself standing outside of his Lieutenant's room late one night, a light flush to his skin as he knocks twice on the door. He beams up at Simon when the man answers, stepping aside for Johnny to enter his room before closing the door and asking what he's doing there so late especially the night before a mission. It makes Johnny fidget with his hands as he swallows and looks Simon in the eyes before letting the confession tumble from his lips, watching for any indication of what Simon may be feeling. He sees nothing cross the man's face and all he gets in return of his confession is a nod before being told to go to bed.

It eats at him the entire mission, the comms quieter than usual and Simon only speaking to him when necessary. He's met with silence when they reach the extraction point, Gaz being the one to ask him how he is instead, mumbling out a reply before he sits and watches Simon pass him to sit next to Price. It continues to eat at him as he watches himself slowly be pushed out of Simon's life, the touches, the jokes, the late nights becoming non existent over night.

The rejection and heartbreak worming its way into his heart and festering. Johnny watches himself slowly shut down, he smiles but it no longer reaches his eyes, he laughs but it's forced, he slowly becomes less and less of himself as he watches the man he loves distance himself no matter how much he's tried to fix things. It doesn't matter how many quips he makes over comms all he gets in return is silence, or how many times he tries to sit next to Simon, the man just getting up and moving or leaving entirely, he never gets to see him unmasked again.

All he has left is his sketches of all the moments they've shared together, the touches, the smiles, Simon's face. He falls asleep thinking of the memories of moments where they were so close together that Johnny could hear Simon's heartbeat, letting the slowly fading sound lull him to sleep. He thinks of it so often that he's not entirely sure the sound he hears in his memories is what it actually sounded like. Sits in bed and thinks about what he did wrong, how he would take back every word if it meant he got to share space with Simon again. He bites his nails down to the quick as stares at the drawings of Simon laughing, lets his fingers bleed onto the paper and smudge his sketches. He tugs at his hair and digs at his face as he lies awake at night and regrets every word that left his mouth that day, letting his fingers dig and scratch away his thoughts, covering his face in bloody scabs.

Johnny lets himself slip more and more into his own head with each passing day, if Simon notices he says nothing, not that he even looks at Johnny anymore. It all becomes too much when Simon walks onto base with another man in tow, arm looped around his waist as he presses the short man into his side and introduces him to the team as his boyfriend. He watches the other man with burning jealousy, takes in the way Simon leans into him and laughs at something he said. He looks at how the man has bright blue eyes and dark hair, how he's shorter than Simon but just as muscular, how he's soft spoken and on the quieter side, how there's a lilt of a Scottish accent in his voice but how it's not overly prominent, how it's not like Johnny's own accent, how he's like Johnny in every way but also the opposite.

He lays in bed that night and wondering if he was less brash, quieter, if his accent wasn't as prominent, if he wasn't everything he was now then would Simon like him? He lets the thought eat away at him and fester until he's a hollow shell, until he's withdrawing and becoming quieter, letting his hair grow out from his signature mohawk and he starts evening out his accent and making it more neutral. Watches as Simon's eyes start to meet his again while Johnny flutters his eyelashes and looks away so he isn't staring too long like how he used to. Listens as Simon starts to make small quips to him over the comms again, he replies in kind but in a softer voice and nothing as vulgar as he used to say. Preens as Simon compliments his hair and gives it a small ruffle as it grows out, he throws out his electric trimmer that night. Watches as he becomes less himself more someone else, someone he doesn't recognise, someone who wasn't ever him or who he thought he'd become.

[imnotverybright]

one thing about me is that i will be picking at my face until i die. i will be popping pimples that are damn near microscopic. if i have a little bump on my face i WILL turn it into a massive wound. and then i will pick the scab. bitch.