#tw:sadness

[theseprettylittlepixels]

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone But though you're still with me, I've been alone, I'm alone.

[hquinzelle]

TW: grief, death, sadness, cancer.

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 You stare at the blank page in front of you. You have the environment set up. You have a drink, a box of tissues, plenty of pens so the ink doesn’t run out. You have the saddest music you could find playing, so that it inspires you to feel sad and “process your grief” (how fucked up is it that you listen to sad music when you are sad to make yourself feel sadder?). You are somewhere without distractions, so you have no choice but to feel and write.

You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to write about your feelings, because putting it down on paper makes it real.

You’ve already shoved the feelings down so far that you don’t actively feel them, because you don’t want to. They have the bad habit of coming out when you least expect them to or want them to, in unexpected ways. You lash out at someone when they said something they didn’t mean the way you chose to take it. You get angry at the slightest thing. You cry over the slightest thing. All so you can avoid thinking about what is really bothering you.

“You need to process your feelings, acknowledge them”. Yeah, fuck that shit.

You reluctantly pick up a pen and start writing. You use a brown pen because the fact the person died was shitty, inwardly laughing at your own joke because you deal with trauma through sarcasm and jokes.

You write about how they weren’t supposed to die so young. How you were supposed to have more time. How the cancer was supposed to be “non-terminal” and even on tv, they say that metastatic breast cancer patients live an average of 4-5 years. They had seven months. Seven months in which we didn’t get to talk much or see each other, because they weren’t feeling well enough to do so or didn’t want anyone to see them, even their best friend.

You write about how you are glad that they are no longer in pain or suffering. You also feel so alone, and you wish you could stop feeling so much. That there was a pill that you could take that would make you stop feeling everything, that you would rather go through life as a zombie than what you are now. You don’t want to make new friends. You just want them back. If there was a way that you could bring them back, healthy and whole, you would. You need them. They were your best friend for fifteen years, and they were everything to you. They loved you. They were there for you. They taught you what it was like to have a friend and to be a friend. Was it perfect? Nothing is, and there were problems. You reconnected though, and that is what matters in the end. They didn’t die while you had a fractured friendship. That’s a small mercy, but an important one.

You write until you can’t write anymore, until your hand hurts and you have no choice.

The music has stopped, and you realize how alone you are. How alone you always will be, because you won’t let anyone close to you because you make bad choices when it comes to friends, and people seem to find it easy to just walk away from you and never talk to you again, which you don’t understand because you are a good person, and funny, and you are supposed to believe (and secretly acknowledge) that you are lovable. You know you push people away, though, and it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.

You keep writing every week, writing pages and pages. It is supposed to lessen the pain.

Does it? Only time will tell.

[hquinzelle]

Tired.

Rating: None.

Summary: Tired, a Jedi is ready, and returns to where it all began.

Warnings: sadness. hopelessness. a brief moment of happiness and peace.

Word count: ~409

Note: This is entirely self-indulgent and what happens when you listen to extremely sad music and have a lot of feelings.

He was tired.  Tired of fighting for something that didn’t exist anymore.  Tired of saving people, only to hear that later they had been hunted down and killed. Tired of being alone.

Tired of being hunted. 

It wasn’t just the Sith Inquisitors that were his enemy. 

Time was also his enemy.  He had been old when Order 66 was executed, and in the ten years since then, he felt like he had aged twenty.  

His robes were no longer white.  His cloak was dirty, tattered. He still wore them, the familiarity both comforting and terrible.

One step. Two steps. Three steps…if you could even call them steps anymore.  If time had not been kind to him, it had been even crueler to the ruins of the Jedi Temple.  He kept going, one foot in front of the other, ignoring the protests of his body, until he stood at the top, in front of what had once been the entrance. 

He closed his eyes, and reached out to the force.  Initially, all he felt was the horror, the pain felt by the Jedi who had fallen on these steps, inside the temple.  His friends, his master, his padawan.  So many lives lost. 

He reached out further and the horror and pain fell away, and for a moment, he felt warmth, surrounded by voices and memories of happier times.  His master, teaching him how to reach out to the force for the first time.  His fellow Jedi, sharing stories of their adventures.  The younglings, his students, laughing as they ran through the halls as he chased them, trying to avoid their training.  

He felt at peace for the first time in many years.

It began to rain, a rare occurrence on Coruscant.  He lifted his face up to the sky, the hood of his cloak falling back as he stood there, letting the rain fall on his face. 

He heard a footstep behind him, sensed a dark presence. 

He opened his eyes, and took a deep breath. 

The only thing he still took care of, the one thing in pristine condition, was the lightsaber hanging from his belt.  He withdrew it now, turning it on as he turned to face what was behind him.  Its brilliant green lit up the night, rain hissing as it fell against the blade. 

He was ready.

[screechinginthevoid]

A Letter To Hurting

For those hurting,who feel their chest heavy.

To those who cant find happiness, even if they tried.

To those that waking up and getting out of bed is enough.

Those who cant bear to look in the mirror or fathom someone being enamored with them.

Hurt,it makes Us sad and miserable,doesnt it? We sit on the floor, looking down wondering why, why do we hurt?why do we need the injuries of the soul?

Some would say to grow, other would just shrug it off blinded by their apathy and carelessness.

You sit there hugging yourself,sobbing under your breath so people wont hear.

Doesnt it feel heavy?I ask you, doesnt feel like your chest drags you down?like your own heart doesnt fit inside your chest?

I see you,and understand your pain.

Sometimes enough is waking up, and staying awake.

Surviving is hard and youre doing It.

The hurt its something we cant explain, we dont know why we feel, why do we need this,if we could just get rid of it, wouldnt we do it in a heartbeat?.

So why? Why do we hurt? I ask you, sitting besides you with your favourite drink and snacks, maybe a blanket or something cold.

We dont know, we May never do so.

But as we hurt,dont we learn somethin? Maybe yes,maybe not, depends on who you ask and thats okay.

I see you, I hear you and I understand you.

And when you cant Belive it,even if you dismiss me.

I see you, I hear you,and though we May never meet I love you.

Darkness can be scary,specially our own.

When youre ready talk to it,see what it tells you,you dont have to do it alone.

Therapist,are a good option,maybe Friends,youre no burden ,and those who says you are, they lie, you deserve to be heard.

I promise you life wont throw something your way you cant deal with.

What you feel is Real and valid.

Remember than even if we May not know the purpose of hurting, its okay to feel it.

I promise you everything Will be okay

I love you unconditionally even if we never met.

And remember

I see you, I hear you, and I love you.

[isakvaltersen03]

Dear Diary

23.06.2019 - I miss home more than ever, i miss being me

New York is a beautiful pace, I cant deny that without lying. Yet I cant help but miss Oslo. I like how Oslo is smaller, its still big to me but not nearly as big as here. I have now been here in New York for 2 months and I have met a lot of wonderful people. Time flies by but I have to admit, i´m homesick. I was scrolling through my phone a few minutes ago and found so many pictures from back home

My homeies. They are off to amazing adventures, some on their own some together and i´m sitting here wishing I could join them. Thinking back to all the good times we had through out the years. What I wouldn’t do to be with this silly gang right now. People might not see it, they might not notice, i´m good at hiding feelings, But I feel so small and alone in this extremely huge place. Sure I have made a bunch of good friends, but it doesn’t compare to those you have grown up with, those who know every single thing about you and can read you like a book. Sure not all my friends do, but Lucas does. My best friend, we have been through thick and thin throughout the years. We grew up on the same street and played together every day. We went to our first football practice together… or should I say soccer like people in the USA call it? We fell in love with the sport together and have practiced together on the same team ever since… until I moved away. We went to soccer camp every year together from the age of 6 till last years… think about it, 10 years of summer camp together. When I doubt myself, he always puts my head on strait. He doesn’t take my bullshit, he calls me out on things and I might not have appreciated it back then, but I really do right now. I miss just being able to walk into his house and sit down on the couch and watch a movie on his big tv just because I feel like it or go grab a kebab with him or watch a good soccer game. Fuck, i even miss calling soccer football. He is like the brother I never had and I miss him so much. I miss all the weekend trips we, the whole group, used to go on, long nights with a fire and everyone getting drunk while me and Lucas just laughed our asses of at how crazy they got when they got drunk. I miss having to be the “dad” in the group, making sure we got everything when going on trips and such, I might be far from the oldest of the group but not to brag, I am the most organized and responsible in the group. Guys, I miss you all endlessly and I really truly hope that this summer we can all gather and do something fun, either in New York or back in Norway.

I have really been struggling emotionally and I don’t know how to deal with it. I´m not good at talking about emotions and as much as I hated it back then, I miss Lucas getting me to in his comfortable way, he never pushed me to explain or tell min anything, he just made sure I knew he was there and somehow it always made me talk. Things in New York move so fast. One day i´m alone wandering the halls searching for my class, the next I got myself a boyfriend… How did that happen? I´m not saying I regret it, cause not in a million years would I ever. He has my heart. He is so kind and caring, beautiful and funny. Elias, my Elias. Hes perfect…. Almost… He has some stuff to deal with…Some stuff I have to deal with as well and it scares me. It really terrifies me. Last time, it made me feel so lost and alone, I don’t know how to help him, what to say and do and how to act. I really want to help, that’s all I want really but I feel like I cant and it scares me. His family is fantastic. As amazing as this relationship of ours is… i´m so scared of him one day saying its over. I don’t know what I would do. I would be totally all alone in this big world. But I cant talk to anyone about that really. Its his thing to talk about, his life. I cant really talk to him about it either… Usually i  would tell Lucas… but I feel like this is something I cant even tell him, or can i? I don’t know how this boyfriend thing works…. In stead I end up in bed googling and making myself more confused by the matter.

Moms daily bible verse and our family drama really hurts. We used to be so close, I used to trust them with everything, tell them everything and we used to do everything together. I don’t get why things have to be like they are between us. Why cant they just accept and move on. I havnt changed other than just growing up a bit. I’m only 16, I still need my parent, I may be living in New York, but I still need my father, I need fatherly advises right now more than ever and I need my moms calming and comforting words. But no, that’s not a possibility. Im not saying they have to be okay with everything I say and do and what I believe in and how I feel, we can have different opinions, but I just need my parents to be there for me. I thought they always wold and it hurts more than anything to know they do not at all. I am completely on my own in a foreign country, everything is foreign and so new.

Most of the time, I just wanna be with Elias all day every day, I don’t really want to leave his side, but then I would just suffocate him, and we would get tired of each other I think. Its not good for a relationship to be with each other 24/7, but I hate being alone. That’s when I think about how tough everything is and that’s when I feel sad and alone. That’s when I miss my parents, my friends, my team, my house, my neighbourhood, and even the crappy store that was always out kvikk lunsj. That’s when I start doubting myself the most and my decisions. That’s when I break down and cry myself to sleep. Or end up whining in my diary like a little bitch. I used to think life was perfect, but turns out, that’s not how it is. Nothing and no one is perfect maybe that’s a good thing… but right now, i´m not a fan. I miss the days of being excited for practice, being excied to go to class and learn with my friends, I miss being smiley all the time without faking it a least bit. I miss my friends calling me out on things and making fun of me, I miss bossing my old team around and them not taking me seriously. I miss the water fights after practice, I miss feeling 16 and dumb and wild. I miss being me.  

[thorinsbeard]

Little bit of a vent here.

 I told my housemate not to call me Addi to call me Adam. She makes some comment to me about not getting upset about her calling me Addi, about how it’s endearing, how it reminds her of her brother who died.  I flat out told her. yes you heard me. I SPOKE UP FOR MYSELF for once and told her not to call me that, that it makes me dysphoric as fuck, and she still continues to use it. I’m sorry but just because your brother called you a nickname does not mean you get to use a name that makes me dysphoric. 

I feel stupid getting angry/upset about this. I’m feeling a bit unsatisfied with things these days. I wish I’d go back to Wellington but I wouldn’t get anywhere there. I’m barely holding on. I guess because no matter what I do, I can’t FIX my body. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the money or the means to. I’ve been thinking about the end a lot lately. 

I just wish I’d find some hope, some reason to go on. I’m sorry, for existing most days. 

[thorinsbeard]

I’m just going to write this under the cut because I feel like I’m losing my freaking mind. It’s not just my friend dying...it’s everything. Because I identify as male/non binary trans and most days I don’t even feel like I’m supposed to be here, and my housemate who should know better just blatantly misgendered me made me realize...that maybe it never gets better for me. I can’t handle my dysphoria any longer with my wrong body and everything. 

I have also been really struggling with my friend of 10 years online dying. I just don’t understand it. I feel bad the last conversation we ever had involved “another one bites the dust” because he died after it. And I wish I’d known sooner instead of being here 3 months after it happened, still trying to figure out what I say to people who knew him when he was just someone I talked to over the microphone or chatted with via text/emailed. He wrote me a story once about a cat watching its human struggle with mental illness because he knew I did. And I want to look at Rick Grimes memes but every time I do, I can hear his voice because he loved those memes, he loved The Walking Dead. He’d love hearing my reactions to Jesus and complaining about comics. 

I just miss him.  

[revclverheld]

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