#tw:anger

[lilyssims]

lValentines Day Surprise 3/3

“Anna talk to me. What is going on?” the uneasy feeling was starting to eat him up from the inside. Was it another of her drama stunts or was she being serious this time?`He couldn’t tell. He never saw this kind of reaction from her. Let alone the fact that she wasn’t able to hide her red eyes and dry cheeks well. To him it looked like she didn’t even make the effort to try. Or maybe she wasn’t thinking about it. Reaching out for her shoulder he gently tapped it as she kept sobbing. 

“Can you just leave me alone” it was not as though she did not appreciate his concern, but she did not need him right now.She didn’t want to have to face him.

“Absolutely not! What’s the matter with you, Anna? You’re never like this.”

“Because I didn’t ask to be like this in the first place!” she nearly screamed as she jerked away. Oliver, however, didn’t let her as he had a gentle grip on her wrist in order to stop her. Something was wrong; this wasn’t like her at all. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find any words. He was at loss for words to tell her. Nothing was going to help. 

“Oliver I--” she finally began, her voice was raspier than he had ever heard it. “I’m....I... I’m pregnant!” for a moment he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to laugh or not. She was joking, wasn’t she? It was a lame excuse for something. However, as he watched her shoulders shake continuously and her sobs never stopped it was probably not a joke. 

“Are you serious?” he took her silence as a yes, but still, something told him this wasn’t supposed to have happened. Yes he wanted children, but LeAnna kept saying she wasn’t ready and now she was pregnant. Something wasn’t adding up. “That’s... wonderful news!” his arms wrapped themselves around her from behind. 

“I am not ready for this,” she whispered.

“I know, but... do you want to keep it?” he was not sure if she was actually going to answer him on that, and her answer was so low, almost deaf. “Maybe when we start shopping for it, you’ll feel more ready.”

“I hope so...I’ve been so sick all day and I still feel like I’m going to puke again” turning around she sniffling, buried her face in the nap of his neck.

“It might be to soon to ask, but...”

“What?”

“Do you want to know what it’ll be?” maybe he should just have stuck his shoe in his mouth, but he was so happy inside although he knew she wasn’t and it was killing her, but seeing she wanted to keep it, he thought it was a relevant question.

“I think so... If I must keep it I hope it’s a baby girl...” LeAnna said bitterly. 

Part 1 | Part 2

[lilyssims]

Valentines Day Surprises 2/3

LeAnna’s eyes slowly drift over the dinning table’s edge. A huge flash red, heart shaped box was almost as huge as the roses that stood next to it. The small bowl of roses, the box of chocolate - none of these had been cheap. When he had set his mind on something, Oliver was not the kind of guy who asked for the price. The box covered for a black handbag of the brand he knew LeAnna loved. The pralines were probably bought in a chocolate store who only sold handmade chocolate. 

Her stomach did another flip.

“Happy Valentines Day love,” Oliver smiled at his girlfriend. A small meek smile crossed her lips as she looked at her gifts. It was just so him to do all this. 

“I didn’t get you anything because...” LeAnna trailed off. She bit her tongue not to say anything else. How was she even supposed to give him the news without he would misunderstand? She knew they would not be on the same page. 

“It’s okay. You know you don’t have to as long as I can do it for you,” although she was not looking, she could hear there was a smile in his voice as he spoke. She felt like she was drowning; it was hard to breathe. 

“Anna, what’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange since I left this morning. Don’t you like it?” concern filled his usual calm voice. Damn it, she was losing it! ‘Don’t cry’ don’t cry!’ 

“I do! It’s just... I... I don’t know to tell you...” her voice cracked, and before she could gather herself, tears started to roll down her face uncontrollably. 

“Anna wha---” she threw her hand up, signalling him to stop talking. “Tell me what’s wrong! Look at me,” Oliver’s voice was filled with worry. What was happening right now? What did he do wrong? 

Feeling restlessness surge through her entire being, LeAnna stood from the table and headed towards the kitchen all while she was shaking her head furiously between heavy sobs.

Part 1  |  Part 3

[chamoy-with-mango04]

26/04

Hola, dios. Soy yo de nuevo...

Quería hablar de expectativas o sobre las hiperfijaciones, pero ahora hay un nuevo tema que me ha dado nuevamente un golpe de realidad.

Está vez, donde estuve llovió... y a pesar de mis anhelos por la lluvia, ignoré que la misma estuvo ahí...

Los problemas han regresado, justo como lo fue hace 6 años... ¿A caso mi estabilidad solo dura 6 años? ¿No puedo tener un buen rato tranquila? Pero de igual manera, ¿6 años tranquilos no son suficientes?

Es cierto que nadie puede vivir feliz por siempre, pero ¿por qué los mismos problemas aparecen? esto cansada de que siga siendo lo mismo... ¡No ha cambiado nada! Padezco de las mismas seriedades que cuando tenía solo 17 años...

¿Qué hago?...

Soy observadora por naturaleza, trato de entender los patrones que se presentan para poder comprender lo que sucedió y pensar en como podría pasar nuevamente... Soy una persona que ha sobrevivido mediante el sobrepensamiento... Por eso terminé de esa manera. Gradualmente mi mente comenzaría a hacer conjeturas que pese a considerarse tales, fueron todo menos que eso.

Ahora entiendo que el ciclo sigue estando ahí, encerrandome, dejandome atrapada; cuya salida se me sigue negando... Estoy cansada... Por no decir exahustivamente llena de una rabia que me ensordece, es tan grande que hace que quiera "rasuñar el suelo y las paredes de mi habitación" Puedo sentir como me quiero comer el mundo, solo para demostrar que puedo todo, ¡todo lo que yo quiera!

Pero la realidad es que no es así. Pero eso no quita que siga estando de pie, aunque nuevamente, tampoco es así. No podría mantenerme de pie al perder lo invaluable, y eso me rompe mucho, soy vulnerable ante lo preciado para mi vida.

No desafio, no soy un dios griego o un héroe o un antihéroe, ni siquiera un villano. Sólo soy una chica, humilde, torpe e inocente. No conozco mucho y mucho menos tengo poder o dinero, pero a veces necesito enorgullecerme de algo, de mi resilencia ante las cosas que he perdido y de la manera en la continúo aunque duela.

Mi ansiedad me quitó mi normalidad, discapacitandome de ciertas acciones... Soy más vulnerable de lo que pensé...

Soy vulnerable de las personas que tienen intenciones de lastirmarme, incluso aunque no sea directamente a mi, me afecta... Soy sensible, "sensible como una bomba" porque lloraré primero, para despues querer explotarte en la cara, con una potencia tan inmensa producida por mi ira...

Lastimar devuelta... erradicar la sonrisa perversa de aquellos que me lastiman, para que yo pueda sonreir de vuelta con un cinismo mayor... ¿Quién soy? Yo no soy así... ¿o si?, Quizás soy así, pero no todo el tiempo, es temporal, simplemente es producto de la furia que siento, despues de todo tenga los problemas de ira, no sólo de mi padre, sino de mi madre también.

¿Aún soy buena? ¿Sigo siendo buena a tus ojos? No me mires... Soy tan miserable...

Buscaré hacer algo diferente, algo que rompa con el ciclo de siempre, estoy cansada de ver a los viejos cansarse, sostienen cadenas y no he podido liberarles... ya es turno de que yo me las coloque también... pero espero al menos que sean cadenas de oro, las má brillantes que puedas ver, que sean tan duras que puedan romper las de los viejos.

No quiero estar en manos de los grandes, no de las manos envidiosas, o de aquellas que me generan zozobra. Es momento de morder el polvo, o moriré sin poner en alto los laureles que se me colocaron en la cabeza, que han sido producto de un esfuerzo que no quiero que pierda su valor, quizás de un valor lo suficentemente ambiguo para la vista de los ojos poco apasionados.

[importantcrusadeblaze]

Like, I don't think anyone knows how much Ben means to me. He was the first character I ever created, and I have literally cried my eyes out for him because I need to tell his story. And seeing that trailer kinda just took my hope of telling the world about him. Fuck.

[importantcrusadeblaze]

Might as well give up on my dream of making a freaking tv show with Ben. Literally most of the elements of Ben's life is in this trailer. Bet if I tried to make the show I'd get a copyright notice and be called unoriginal. Bastards.

[scarletttext]

Sometimes I wish I wasn't right and this was all some bullshit nightmare. It always blows up, it always causes damage. And they forget. And they bottle up and take out on me on any chance, and it's actually better that they take it out on me, that way my young brother can be spared. But this shit gets burned in my brain, this shit gets stored inside me like a fucking disease, and the only one to suffer the consequences of THEIR actions... It's me. Because they forget, they brush off, they can't remember the hurtful words they say after the alcohol, they can't remember the gaslighting, the guilt trip, the accusations, the blame that they put on me, I grew up with the guilt for everything. It's actually surprising I haven't gone batshit crazy after everything I've been through, not only with them, but with other people too.

But you know what hurts like shit? I only noticed all this fucked up bullshit when I was forced to think WHY Harley Quinn was my favorite character from DC. And it wasn't because she is cool and a badass. It was because I related to her, it was because I could feel on my skin all the hell she've been put through, I could feel how much she HATED the Joker, but couldn't escape, she wasn't able to run. And I loved her because eventually she got away, eventually someone realised how utterly FUCKED UP was the whole thing with Joker, and decided to write about her, and decided to tell how it was, and decided to give her someone that actually CARES for her. And this thing... It gave me hope, and it kept me going for YEARS, because every fucking day I wanted to escape this hell hole, every fucking day I wanted to run away from it all, to run away from THEM, from my own parents, but to run away from the others as well... Because it's really hard to grow up in abusive situations without having it engraved in you: this is normal. So you gravitate towards these situations, because it's all you've ever known, and this is your normal, fucked up as it is. And it looks like the bad people know this, so they gravitate to you as well. And untill you FINALLY realize that this is all a messy, FUCKED UP LIE, oh well my dear, you've already walked through hell and back, and this fucking bleeding wound might be your last straw. Like it almost was for me.

I talk, and I talk, and I talk. I put things on the reasons to stay alive tag every fucking day, and yeah, it's cool, I am helping people, I can be the hand that I didn't have, I can give someone a little hope everyday. But the truth is that I only have this tag because I've almost killed myself some many times, I've battled every single time, to drop the knife, the blade or whatever, before I hit something vital, before I started bleeding to death, before I actually went through with what my head kept yelling at me, or before dissociation took me away for long enough to go through. And the little control I had only gave me this much, it was only enough to stop me, and then I usually ended up in a mixed state of laughing and crying -and maybe that's another point I can relate to Harley, I know what is like to laugh out of sheer pain and desperation.

And now here I am, filled to the edge with pent up anger for what they did to me, and I FUCKING HATE MYSELF. Because I don't want to lash out, I don't want to cause pain, I don't want to break things and I don't want revenge. FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I JUST WANNA GET OUT! And this sorry excuse of a text is only because I can't scream, this whole shit is only because I don't wanna wallow in self pity for my past. And yes, this shit doesn't have a "message", it has actually nothing for you to read here, I don't even know exactly why I wrote it, I think I just wrote it to talk about traumas, because look at this whole shit. So if you were looking for a positive message, come back tomorrow, for now I'm too busy sulking. Sue me.

[thorinsbeard]

Someone really should inform my bloody flatmates that using the laundry after midnight (12.38 a.m) is really fucking rude. I’m about done with this place, with this flat. I don’t know why I’m so scared to go to my new house?? Why 

[thelittlealice]

I'm the type of guy who knows he has anger issues (it's why i started smoking.) although im alot calmer now im still scared, my anger is Mostly me swearing severly, and smashing hard things like walls, causing me to injure myself, im alright with that.

Sounds like you need help though. Hurting yourself on purpose isn’t a good thing. Maybe you should find an other way to get your anger out? Like start something like kick-boxing? Or working out in general? I’m sorry you have to go through that.