My Thoughts - Tumblr Posts

I often like to talk to the moon, nature and animals more than to people

i hate meaningless connections, when it comes to people, i like those who are near to my soul

Blue Collar

Jason Todd x reader

Reader: Female

Warnings: Pet death (dog), angst, sad reader, my writing cause that’s a ALWAYS a warning

Why I wrote this: Because I had to put my dog down on Saturday 25 January 2020

Jason Peter Todd wasn’t known to be a light sleeper. In fact if he did wake up early it was only because he’d had a nightmare but you would always be there to calm him down and reassure him that everything’s alright. You’d never wake him up early anyway as he nearly always came home late from patrol. He’d come home at 2am tonight.

Jason wasn’t awake, not fully at least, but awake enough to know that something was wrong. It was like a sixth sense. His brain kicked in making the sleep Jason was clinging to evaporte like mist. He opened his eyes to see you huddled over, back rising and falling erraticly. The sleep was still in his ears and he couldn’t hear anything which made him panic more.

Pushing the covers away he frantically pulled his way over to you and sat next to you on the bed. He saw the tears before his hearing finally kickstarted like an engine. His face turned to a frown and his heart broke at the sight of his beautiful girl crying.

“Baby? Y/n what’s wrong?” He questioned. She opened her mouth but no words came out just a choked sob. She grasped whatever she had in her hands tighter. Jason’s eyebrows furrowed until he made out what it was. A dogs collar.

“He’s gone Jay. “ She finally managed to utter out before the tears came back. Jason placed his arm around her shoulders and brought her closer to his chest as she sobbed staring at the collar through blurry eyes. “His kidneys were going when my parents took him they said he wouldn’t of lasted much longer anyway.” She sobbed again and Jason tightened his hold on her. “They said we did the right thing we ended his suffering earlier but why does it feel so wrong?”

“It’s because you loved him and he loved you. You didn’t do the wrong thing and it’s natural that you should feel like this. He’s never gone anyway he’s always going to be in your heart. You wouldn’t want him to hurt would you?” She shook your head “I know it’s hard babe but he’s in a better place now.”

“Yeah.” She muttered tears slowly stopping and her grip on his collar slowly loosening. Jason smiled at her and she smiled back, it was full of sadness and pain but it was a smile.

“I’ll always be here for you y/n I’ll make sure you get through this.”

“Thanks Jay.” She said wiping the tears from her eyes. He pecked her lips noting how salty they tasted.

“How about we go back to sleep yeah? I’m sure all that cryings probably made you feel wiped out.” She chuckled and it sounded like music to Jason’s ears. They both got back under the covers and she laid her head on his chest listening to his heartbeat as he traced random patterns on her. Eventually they fell asleep. Y/n still held onto his blue collar, she’d bought when she first got him, knowing that although her dog may not be here physically he’d always be with her in spirit.

Ok wow that was a shitty ending sorry. But I couldn’t write much more on this cause I was crying so much. The pictures below are of my dog Dougal. Love you so much pal I hope you’re having loads of fun in doggy heaven

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➺ Introduction :

This book isn’t really a book.

It’s more of a diary, a journal. In this I will simply put not only my opinion but my thoughts, precisely my train of thoughts.

Why you may ask. Simply because thinking is something I do a lot, maybe too much. I am what you may call an over-thinker. Even though most of the time I perceive it as some sort of curse for making me dwell on things too much, I sometimes find myself being impressed by how much one can think, by how one’s mind can go far and fast. So during one of my never ending insomnias I thought, why not write down those thoughts, those things you think or ask yourself about. It might actually help me write better and take away a bit of the burden that are those overwhelming thoughts, and maybe someone, like you dear reader, might relate to the things I write. Therefore I decided to give it a shot and simply put my mind into words, or at least I’ll try.

I don’t wish to speak too long in this introduction for fear of boring away some potential readers, not that I really care if actual people are going to read this or not, but I do have two more things to add.

First, I feel like I have to precise that I have not been an English speaker since birth. It’s a uselessly complicated way to say that I am still in the process of learning this language but I love it and I feel much more at ease writing in this universal language than my mother tongue. So my bad if I make some mistakes I try to proof read as much as I can usually but because I think in this journal I’ll just write as it comes I might make more mistakes that I might not see.

And finally, I simply wanted to address the meaning of the title. I always struggle to find titles for my books and novels, so most of the time I settle for something a bit abstract but still linked to the matter at hand.

Consequently, I decided to title this (whatever this is) ‘𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐬’ because in French those flowers are named ‘Pensées’ which also means ‘thoughts’.

I originally thought of a word play with ‘forget me not’ and ‘forget me notes’ because I personally write a lot of what's on my mind in the notes app on my phone... Am I the only one to do that?... Anyway…

To conclude, as I said somewhere above, I don’t really care if nobody actually ends up reading this, I might even keep it to myself, but if you are really there my dear reader and it is not myself reading this page over and over again in order to find a reason to do something about this manuscript, I hope you will enjoy this, whatever this is, and if you don’t I hope at least I will enjoy it.

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🔺Original work, please do not steal or copy. Thanks.🔺

❀ Pansy n°1 = F*cking writer’s block.

I really enjoy writing.

Like a lot.

I think it’s because I have a lot on my mind and I thrive to get it out of my head. Like I don’t want to lose the ideas I have so I try to write as much as I can somewhere, everywhere. I literally have a note on my phone titled ‘Story ideas’ , and up to this date (the time I’m writing this) I collected twelve ideas without counting this book, or whatever this is. I have some ideas that are way more developed than others and some that are just fun things I thought about, but I feel like I could do so much with each of them. And I want, I really want to use all those amazing ideas and make them into the novels they deserve to be, but sadly… It always ends the same.

You see, dear reader, there is some sort of pattern that seems to come back in my life as a wannabe writer. Most of the time it starts with me having a dream or a daydream about whatever came to my mind this day. Then I realize that I really like what I’m imagining, that it’s actually really interesting and maybe it could grow into something more. So I continue to think about it for days, weeks, months, sometimes years and I end up with a full on story of ten novels and even a sequel (I may exaggerate a bit, but only a bit). And here I am, attached to this universe I created, to these characters I watched growing up and all the important events of their adventures I want everyone to know about, and I’ll be heartbroken to just leave it at that. To just leave it as a simple fantasy, a dream, a figment of my subconscious. I cannot possibly let it be forgotten, because I’ll inevitably forget it if I do not act and do something to keep it somewhere, anywhere. So comes the time to write, to finally put into words this story, this scenario that was entirely made up by myself and my creative mind.

Yet, when I finally have the motivation to write something, anything, this so-called motivation never comes alone. It always comes with it. You might be confused as to who or what I’m talking about dear reader. Well, I am talking about this horrible realization that writing is difficult as f*ck.

In fact, I always end up being lost in all the details of my stories. I always end up realizing that I thought of things, but not everything, and that I have now to choose the right words, the right grammar, the right phrasing to accurately depict the world, the characters and the adventures I have created. And this dear reader is so very hard.

Then I also have to think about all that’s in between the big events of the story to tone down the dose of action in the script, to show the character development, to exploit the characters' relationships and make the readers like them as well as relate to them. At this point, writing seems like a chore, a big task that is too hard for me to actually be able to finish.

Admitting that I actually started something and didn’t give up just messily writing down notes on a random notebook, I never seem to end up writing things that I like. Writing becomes stress inducing because I constantly think about what I have to write down after this exact moment for it to make sense and how I have to make some details pop out but not too obvious for the reader to notice them but not understand their importance. All in all my thoughts, ideas and anxiety create this jumbled mess in my head and I am incapable of writing.

To this date I have three started and unfinished projects. One that I started when I was like 12 or 13 and actually finished (well at least the first book or season because it was written as a screenplay) after having started at least four or five different versions of it. But as time flew by I ended up hating what I wrote so I decided to start it all over again this time as a novel. Yet I didn’t get far because I started questioning the originality and interest of this story that was in fact kind of childish. It was very important to me because it was the first ever thing I wrote down and I loved it dearly, but I inevitably left it aside.

Then much later I started thinking of this thriller based on a nightmare I had. So with one of my sisters we wrote everything down about the plot, the characters, the universe, etc… I even started writing but I never went past the first chapter. I was just unable to. I wanted to, really, because it has a lot of potential and I wanted it done but I dreaded writing about it because I couldn’t come up with correct phrasing and ideas of filler chapters. I was also so far ahead in my mind, already thinking of what could happen in the second book of this saga. I’m always thinking too far, too fast. So I have a second draft lying around on my computer.

Finally, recently I decided that I wanted to truly finish a book, that I was going to do it, and in order to do just that I thought of a simple love story which could fit in a tiny and single book. Like that no thinking ahead and finishing with ideas for an infinite number of books. So I took notes of ideas as they came, created the characters and found their visuals, all of that in a very short amount of time and I loved doing it. I was thrilled! It felt good to be able to do things so fast and smoothly. Then I started writing, it went well, I was inspired and I liked how I wrote, but came chapter 7 and I stopped completely because I was once again starting to complicate the task at hand. I was either distracted or not inspired or just lazy. So I stopped and a third unfinished draft joined my computer.

Whenever I want I could go back to either of those drafts and continue them, because deep down I know I am capable of doing it, of writing but I can’t seem to do so. I am just stuck with overflowing ideas but the incapability of fully writing things down. It s*cks… And it makes me feel incapable.

So I just have one thing to say: f*ck writer’s block.

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🔺Original work, please do not steal or copy. Thanks.🔺

- notify me if there are typos ;)

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There was a long break between the time I wrote the first entry and this one. So I decided that after this opinion piece about writing in a foreign language I will probably in the near future publish a longer and more personal entry that I wrote in order to “catch up” on my mental health :)

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❀ Pansy n°2 = I love English.

It is true, I do love the English language.

In fact, today I am in my first year of college and I follow a course in English Literature and Civilisations. So basically I am studying this language in depth. It feels great as, when I started this journal, it was the only thing I was wishing for but it is a lot harder than I thought…

Anyway, it is definitely not what I want to write about.

What I want to speak of, to let my mind wander to, is how I find it easier to express myself, my thoughts, my mindset, my feelings in English rather than in my mother tongue. I find it so strange yet fascinating and a bit logical. Actually, I have been told (or I have read somewhere but can’t remember where) it is a fact that bilingual people describe their emotions and communicate in their learned language with more ease. I find it quite logical as we have learned precise words and ways to express peculiar and specific events, feelings,... We have a whole new and fresh vocabulary imprinted in our minds so it feels like we have more words to clearly express something. Moreover, it creates more distance between us and the problems or feelings we’re facing.

I personally relate to this a lot.

I think it might be enhanced by the fact that I read more in English as well. So in a way, my literary vocabulary is more extended in English. I consume a lot of English entertainment. Songs, books, movies, series, fanfictions…

My mind even works in English. I think, speak and dream in English. Weirdly, it just comes naturally.

When I write or read in my mother tongue things just feel cringe and wrong, like there’s always a better way to say those things. Sometimes I think of sayings and expressions in English which are perfect for what I am trying to say but, it has to be in my mother tongue and it either doesn’t have an equivalent or even if it has, I feel like it loses a bit of its meaning. It is truly complicated, especially when I talk with people and only English vocabulary comes to my mind. Moreover, as an aspiring writer and translator, I cannot and do not want to lose connection with my mother tongue. I have to practice it and feel more comfortable with it. And when I successfully write in my native language, I cannot express how proud I feel. It just is awesome to see that I am capable of writing beautiful and meaningful things in this language that I feel so uneasy with.

Yet, I feel that sometimes it is an enormous struggle to communicate with others when I can’t speak with them with some english words and expressions. Like I said, more than often I have english words which come to my mind and it is hard to find how to say it in my native language. The worst is, when I struggle and people tell me to just say as I think, they end up mocking me and saying things like “Oh excuse me ! Madame only speaks English !” It makes me feel awful as people clearly think I am trying to expose my good english. Like I am pompous, conceited, arrogant… And it is very much what I don’t want people to think of me. Even though I am, in fact, proud of the quality of my English - written and spoken - I don’t want people to see me as someone who thinks too highly of herself.

ANYWAY. I enjoy writing in english. I enjoy speaking in english. And I will not stop practicing this language.

✿❀✿

🔺Original work, please do not steal or copy. Thanks.🔺

- notify me if there are typos ;)

✿❀✿

This chapter tackles subjects that can be sensitive to some readers, please do not interact if you are uncomfortable.

⚠️ Warning : depiction of depressive behavior (depressive thoughts, suicidal thoughts,…).

Read at your own risk.

- Beaucoup d’amour, Poppy.

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❀ Pansy n°3 = “I’m tired.”

This quick, short, simple sentence is quite interesting. I like it as much as I hate it. It can be seen as meaningless whereas it is possibly quite meaningful.

“I’m tired.”

It is the most mundane way to express a physical state of fatigue. It is not too tiring to say it because of its shortness, and it is easily understandable. Everyone knows and understands what being tired is, right ? It is a state that everyone suffers from almost daily. Everyone knows this feeling in the morning, when it is difficult to get up because you’re still tired, you haven’t slept enough and your body is begging you to stay cuddled up in your warm bed sheets. The horrible pain that comes with having to pry your eyes open when they can’t help but stay closed. How helpless one can feel, as it is like fighting against your own body to finally get up, to finally wake up.

I also think that everyone knows the feeling of fatigue weighing down your eyes, as if you can physically feel your eyebags because your exhaustion is so present that it has started to weigh you down.

Personally, I know what I’m talking about, ‘cause I have quite the messed up sleep schedule (thanks to insomnia, never ending anxiety, and maybe a bit because of my excessive screen time… :/ ).

Living while being tired is very difficult. How can one be expected to work normally when their body isn’t at its maximum capacity. It’s normal to ask yourself this type of question, but sadly, because today’s society goes so fast, and everyone has to work their asses off to survive, you have no choice but to overview your own physical condition to go on. This type of difficult living is, today, what we can call “common-knowledge”. It bothers everyone but nothing can quite be done…

Yet, it can be even more difficult than being physically tired. In fact, it becomes worse when being physically exhausted is your everyday state. When it is like this constantly, you cannot help but also be emotionally tired. And that’s when the meaning of this simple sentence changes.

“I’m tired”, becomes a simplified way to express an emotional, moral and psychological state of fatigue. I would go even as far as saying, a state of depression.

In this specific case, I don’t think everyone knows how this feels. It is so particular, peculiar, distinct. This precise state can be depicted as a constant feeling of being numb. Emotions are tiring so you can end up not feeling them anymore, you literally seal them away to not waste the last small bits of your energy on them. On the other hand, you can end up feeling them as if they were multiplied, which tires you out even more. Both of those cases are terrible for your mental health. In this peculiar state of psychological exhaustion, thinking can become tiring, any little event or responsibility can be seen as a humongous activity which will inevitably steal away all your energy. My point of view and explanation of this physical, psychological and emotional state can be biased by the fact that I am quite subject to anxiety. So, I may give away a more “exaggerated” version of it (I am also hypersensitive, so everything feels multiplied).

I, personally, feel exhausted by these constant overwhelming thoughts, responsibilities, changements and the inevitable passing of time which gives me less time to process and get through all those things which overwhelm me.

As I grew up, this simple sentence totally changed its significance for me. It is as if it lost all of its raw meaning. I feel a bit guilty of this… Let me explain.

When I was younger, everyone knew me for being a heavy sleeper. I mean, it happened more often than not that I slept in until 2pm. I just needed a lot of sleep, and also felt inevitably safe in my bed that on so many mornings I was just too lazy to get up and get breakfast. But as time went by, it was revealed that I indeed slept late, but that was because I fell asleep late (mostly because of hyperfixations, screens, sometimes books, fanfictions or, of course, overthinking). So even if I slept a lot, in the eyes of my family, I kept on complaining that I was tired, obviously. But what was not so obvious, was the fact that I slowly started to use this excuse of “I’m tired” to express a lot of other things.

In fact, I started answering to every worried plea towards me by, “Don’t worry, I’m just tired.” Even though that was not the only reason… When I was feeling down, I said “I’m tired.” When I was down right sad, I said “I’m tired.” When I was annoyed, I said “I’m tired.” Et caetera…

I just thought that it was easier that way. I did not have to bother and try to explain what happened in my mind to people I was sure did not care and couldn’t help me. Plus, I just didn’t know what truly made me feel so down, so tired. It was also easier for me to reduce all of those conflictive feelings to just tiredness. And it was not entirely false. I, indeed, feel exhausted.

I am tired of being tired. Tired of working, of talking, of moving, of socializing, of thinking, of pushing through, of going forward, of making efforts, and more often than not… tired of living.

Everything just feels like a humongous burden. Every little thing weighs me down like it’s a matter of life and death. I can’t help but overthink everything, anything. I always analyze things too much, I always think too far ahead, I’m a pessimist… And I’m just tired of it all.

Everything feels helpless when you can’t help but just be tired.

It makes living an exhausting, never ending effort. The worst is that most of the time this fatigue passes off as laziness. People just criticize you because you’re “lazy”, when in fact you’re just internally exhausted. And I hate it. So many people just don’t understand this state of mind. Because it is one. As I said before, it becomes a real state of physical, psychological, emotional and moral exhaustion. And it is overlooked more often than not.

It is a real state of distress.

I have no solution to this because I am very clearly suffering from it. But I simply want people to know that they're not alone. I am sure we are thousands out there feeling helpless. I know so because mental health has become a much more talked about subject these past years, especially on social media. Still, I don’t think it is enough.

The mental distress of teenagers is particularly overlooked. I personally think it is because the adult/parent generation of today is made of people whose feelings and mental health have been overlooked during their entire growing process. How many times have we heard from our parents or grandparents “At your age I had to deal with things on my own” or stuff like that. And we know that in the past, mental health was clearly not cared for or seen as important and impacting on people’s lives. So how can they teach us that mental state and emotions matter when they haven’t been educated like that. I think it can be qualified as “generational trauma”.

Anyway, I might have gone too far into thinking again. I feel like I am stating so many obvious things but I like getting it out of my system. I really enjoy writing those pensées… It helps me be a little less confused about my feelings and honestly…

It makes me feel a little less tired.

✿❀✿

🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

✿❀✿

This chapter tackles subjects that can be sensitive to some readers, please do not interact if you are uncomfortable. And it's about my personnal life, though I feel comfortable sharing those facts. Of course, don't read if you're not interested :)

⚠️ Warnings : depiction of mental health (depressive thoughts, suicidal thoughts, self harm, self hate,…).

Read at your own risk. - Beaucoup d’amour, Poppy.

✿❀✿

❀ Pansy n°4 = A little catch-up.

*sigh* So ! There’s a lot to say…

I didn’t plan to make this book, or whatever this is, so personal but I feel like this could do me some good and that it could actually be interesting to share a bit more of my struggles.

I mean, I think this book makes it pretty clear - especially with what I write and think of writing in it - but I suffer from chronic anxiety, ‘masked’ depression and a bit of ADHD. First and foremost, ‘masked’ depression is a bad translation from my native language but basically it means that I try - or at least tried - to hide it from others, to keep up appearances. Which is… Way too true. But anyways.

To start from the beginning, it has been more than a year since I got “diagnosed” with chronic anxiety by my first therapist. He told me it was most likely hereditary - which is true, I got f*cking anxious parents especially my dad. I started therapy in January 2022, after years of mental distress. I always remember being anxious, sleeping badly and feeling lonely as well as inexistant, useless, transparent. It is like, most of what I remember from my teenage years (and I have massive blackouts from my childhood somehow :/). I am constantly struggling with my feelings, thoughts and place in life. It is as if my entire life revolves around internal conflict. I was - and still am a bit - used to dealing with all of it on my own, because I am convinced that you can count on nobody but yourself, but mostly that I shouldn’t burden people with it especially when they won’t care anyway.

Adding to that, the fact that I am the youngest of three siblings, I grew up thinking that I was too much in my family. Like my parents had already too much to deal with and just hadn’t the capacity to fully care for me. Moreover, on my dad’s side of the family I was also the younger cousin. So when my cousins and siblings became teenagers and young adults, I was very clearly put aside. The worst was that everyone was aware of it. I mean they literally gently threw me out of each room they were in when they wanted to talk about more “adult themed” subjects, always promising to call me back when they were done which obviously never happened. At the time, I complained to my parents and relatives about it, saying that I was tired of being rejected and just wanted to spend time with my cousins. But everyone just told me to wait it out, that it was normal as I was younger but with time it’ll change and it ended with people not even caring anymore if I was saddened about the situation. From this experience I think I just came to the conclusion that older people would always look at me as a less valuable being just because I was younger than them and theoretically couldn’t understand their “grown up and experienced” mind. As well as the fact that nobody - not even my family - cares about my feelings even if I communicate them.

I think that is when my difficulty communicating started to grow. I totally closed off from everyone, trapping myself in a never ending feeling of loneliness, even sometimes feeling like I am a spectator to my own life.

So I grew resentful towards my family, always wishing to stray away from them, to flee the country and build a new and better life. Away from everything. Then, I started thinking - very firmly - that without me, things would stay exactly the same. My family wouldn’t be impacted at all as I was only an unwanted nuisance that took too much care and money. I did not feel important, nor truly loved. I felt I just couldn’t be loved as I wasn’t interesting and had nothing for myself to make people appreciate me, just because I craved for attention I was not given by my family. 

Furthermore, when I had just started middle school, I found out I had scoliosis. And a pretty bad one at that. After three months of observation, my spine ended up forming a perfect S shape. It was so bad that I had to wear a medical corset, in order to keep my back in check. That is how I ended up wearing a plastic made medical corset 23 hours a day every day. All of that, just a few weeks before my 12th birthday… Yes, it was an amazing gift :).

So, I found myself being sort of disabled. Wearing something totally new to every single one of my classmates and even my school’s administration. Find a way to feel more left out and alienated. Yet, I was not truly bullied for it. People were kind and curious, often offering me to carry my bag or things like that. Still, I was faced with the fact that a majority of people just wouldn’t understand how hard it could be on someone’s body and mind. People just thought of aesthetic corsets when I had to explain what I had, and didn’t understand why I made the choice to wear one as well as why it handicapped me. 

In fact, it was truly a burden. It was not only painful, it was also truly incapacitating. I couldn’t bend down, I couldn’t sit without having my thighs being compressed and cut by the plastic, I couldn’t breathe or eat properly. At first I couldn’t even go to the bathroom with it. Plus, you are taught to get it on while laying down so I had authorized access to the nurse office - even when she wasn’t there - to take it off and pee. Only once was I refused the access to it, and my mom was so mad she made sure to call the school and report how it was unacceptable as I literally had a PCP (Personalized Care Project) which granted me special rights like access to the nurse office or even prioritized access to the cafeteria to not risk me being pushed and falling in the middle of a crowd. I actually got crushed by someone once. I was kneeling near my locker and someone fell on me. My breath cut short and I had trouble recovering. I only remember one of my friends opening my corset but nothing after that… Weird. But knowing how much I forget traumatic events I’m not even surprised :). 

Aside from that, the corset also took away my dream career of becoming a ballerina. It was a harsh reality check for a 12 year-old who already had a lot going on. So to sum it up, the corset physically blocked me, woke up unbearable back pains, made me feel even more abnormal, broke my dreams, ruined my birthday and made my nights even worse. Nice.

And it is only the beginning.

At the same time I also had a really sh*tty friend group. You know this type of friend circle in which everyone swears they’re best friends but spit on each others’ back? Well it was exactly like that. Adding the fact that they truly enjoyed putting only some people aside. I only have one friend from this group to which I still talk to this day. She is the only one who was honest with me, cared and liked me. And she changed schools during our second year, so she clearly got away from all the drama. But we kept contact and we are still really close.

Yet, I lost my best friend of 7 years to this group. She preferred to stay with them even if they were making fun of her behind her back, while I decided to leave and find other friends. Still, I was fairly traumatized by this friendship as one of the girls very clearly confessed in secret that she thought I was nonexistent, invisible and that without me things would be the same… So yeah, trusting people after that was especially hard.

Man, teenage years s*ck…

Eventually I found new friends with whom I felt a bit more like myself - whoever I was at that age. I got closer to this one girl I met at the very beginning of middle school and who is, today, still my beautiful and amazing best friend <3. That year I remember not having so many dark thoughts, but they became a bit too normal. Now that I had new people around me and felt I could express myself, it became really hard for me to repress my feelings. I was so used to bottling everything up, put on a straight face and feeling numb that once I felt a bit more at ease, it was impossible for me to go back.

I felt better with my friends and started questioning myself. Who I was. Who I wanted to become. Who I liked… I was around 14 years-old when I came out to my friends as Bisexual. I had this huge crush on one of my friends and even if I got - kindly - rejected, I knew where I stood. Everyone accepted me, I wasn’t judged by any of them. My siblings didn’t know yet at the time - as we didn’t share the close bond we have today. And my parents still don’t know to this day…

Nevertheless, this new discovery about myself made me question my attraction towards this one female friend of my friend group (just to bring precision, I didn’t and still don’t really hang out with boys much. Idk why lol). And this questioning ended up with me being in my first ever serious relationship, and it was with a girl behind my parents back.

I won’t go into details about this relationship or how catastrophic my middle sister’s first reaction was. But even if I should have known by now, things didn’t go according to plan… LOL.

I started this relationship thinking I had nothing to lose but in the end I lost my sanity and will to live, is that okay with you ? No but seriously, this girl ruined my life. She was what we call a ‘narcissistic pervert’. Literally made me lose any closeness I had to other people, wanting me to care only about her - even at my own expense. She constantly wanted to make me jealous with weird fantasies she had with her former crushes, making me feel like I clearly wasn’t the only one on her mind or even a tiny bit special. Once she even told me that before we got together she also had a crush on another girl, and that if we didn’t start something she might’ve not chosen me… B*tch. She even made me feel guilty for any little thing I could do or say when I tried to communicate - yes, it is called guilt tripping :). She was weirdly sexist, like she took on the ‘stereotypical role of the man’ in the relationship and wanted to be the one to lead the relationship in everything, even when it was uncalled for. She didn’t value my feelings, many times gaslighting me. Towards the end of our relationship, she often made me feel forced to engage in foreplay and sexual acts…

I know that, in a way, it was also my responsibility as I didn’t communicate much, always putting her first but I also felt like I couldn’t because whatever I said or did she put herself in the victim position while I was made the culprit. You know, she even got mad at me once because I fell asleep texting her - I took plant based pills, and they worked really well at the time. And she was aware of how much I struggled sleeping! Everything just had to revolve around her, all the time. It was clearly a one way relationship.

For other anecdotes - because I ended up going into details… :/. Even when I broke up with her, she couldn’t help but guilt trip me. She was literally telling me how cruel I was not to think about the situation she found herself in when I asked her for a break. (Yes, I needed a break first to see if I was better alone and to prepare myself to break up with someone… Oopsies.) Because of our relationship, I lost a friend who sided with her and it completely broke our friend group as no one wanted to hang out with the two of us when we were together. Yes we were f*cking cringe middle schoolers… Yikes.

One of the worst memories I have, concerning her lack of real care for me, was when I harmed myself… I was wallowing in self pity, hating myself and my life when everything was supposed to be better. I was dying with anxiety as important exams were coming up and as usual my feelings were minimized at home, and in my relationship. Even if it was the year I grew closer to my sisters, our relationships were still rocky - especially with my middle sister. I felt like all of my problems were meaningless, and I was the problem, the one to blame. So for an entire week I harmed myself. It was the simplest way I found to prove myself I had a reason to hurt. What better way to prove you’re in pain than having physical wounds ? That was my reasoning. It was also a clear cry for help as I did nothing to hide it. I constantly thought “the bigger it is, people would see it less.” And it always proved to be true.

One evening, I was having dinner with my two sisters and my mom. Simply wearing a tank top, my scarred wrists in plain sight. When my mom asked me what happened to them. I lied, saying that I simply scratched myself too hard with my long nails. And it was never tackled again. My sisters never caught up with it, my mom never asked more. It just went unseen. But, as I said earlier, my ex did even better. I literally showed her and after arguing a bit I just told her it was my way to cope and she answered “if it helps you, I’ll learn to live with it.” What a caring significant other am I right ?

Then after a week of only being able to think about doing it. I stopped because two of my friends found out and made me promise to never start again. But to be honest, I think I never really stopped. I learned that chewing the insides of your mouth (like really aggressively) is also a way to self-harm. I also used to scratch myself really hard when I felt mad at myself. And I happened to try and use a blade once more a few times, but felt extremely pathetic afterwards. I have been quite clean since then, especially since I don’t deny my own feelings and let myself have breakdowns lol.

During highschool I slowly started healing from this amazing relationship. Sadly, my anxiety grew because of school and just as I thought things could still go better… Boom. World wide pandemic. We had to stay focused on school while being stuck at home. It was really hard on me especially because my dad had to work from home while my mom - who takes care of kids at home - didn’t stop working. The cohabitation was less than pleasant. Anyway, I don’t have anything interesting to say about the period, just that it helped me go down the rabbit hole even faster :). A pleasure.

For my last year of highschool, teachers and adults expected us to go back to normal and be perfect students as if Covid never happened. They expected us to be okay. And it was just not possible. My anxiety went haywire as we had really important final exams at the end of the year that I couldn’t fail. All my friends were feeling down, I was feeling suicidal and just wanted to end the pain. I also lost my great-grandmother and a month later - literally two days before Christmas - my dog also passed away. It was a very difficult time for my family. Then came January and I felt more than ever like dying.

Each passing day I was only feeling like life was just a burden. Why did I have to suffer so much just from living ? I had to take the train every day, always thinking of just jumping on the rails. I had to fake a smile every day, to try and forget. To take care of my own friends who were too feeling horrible. I was just so tired…

Then my savior came. One of my close friends went to express their worries about me to one teacher with whom I was very close. She was a PE teacher and my dance option teacher for two years already. One day she asked me to talk after a class and as I exceptionally had finished class early I accepted.

It was the most intense and emotional discussion I ever had.

We both cried - a lot - I confessed everything. I was honest and she brought so much help. Thanks to her my parents became aware of the situation and I got help. She made my mom call a therapist she had heard only good things about and talked to me about what I could do and take to sleep better. I missed her class to go to my first ever therapy session and she often checked up on me. I could never thank her enough for everything. 

She saved my life. Literally.

This therapist was special but not bad. He talked a lot and I didn’t always feel heard, but he diagnosed me with chronic anxiety and slight ADHD. Therapy didn’t really help for my inner conflicts but I started to manage my stress a bit better. I passed my exams with less stress and excelled. But I still felt like it wasn’t a good match so I stopped seeing him. I let summer pass, trying to get my mind off of things. Went on vacation with my bestfriend and just tried to feel better.

Things went okay, but I was still bothered by anxiety as I was to start university. And it didn’t miss. Uni is a literal hell. Like what the f*ck ?? Why does it have to be so hard and stress inducing ? September was my way to hell…

I found a new therapist not far from my house. Since then I haven’t changed. My therapist is just amazing. I feel so much at ease with her, I have real conversations and I can freely express myself. I truly feel like it is helping me. Still, it was not enough for me to feel at least a little better on a daily basis so I started taking anxiolytics. It helped a bit but after a month it was clear that I had to take stronger medicine if I wanted to go through it day by day. So after being diagnosed with depression by a first psychiatrist I got prescribed antidepressant and sleeping pills. It was really hard at first as I had a LOT of side effects.

It did not help me sleep at all. The first night I literally did not sleep and had a mental breakdown just as I got up. I got really shaky and I was constantly nauseous. I missed some classes to rest at home but I couldn’t allow myself to miss more. I went on and even if we add to rise the dosage of my medicine I am feeling a bit better today.

I am still on my way towards healing but I think I am on the right path. I am surrounded by amazing people. My sisters and I are closer than ever, best trio ever <3 And I even grew closer to my mom. I express myself way more and try to be positive. It is not easy everyday but I start to finally believe that it might not be that impossible to heal. Right now school is almost finished for me and I never felt better. I am working on myself, trying to improve the person I am in order to become the person I want to be. I take good care of myself, try to change my mind and go out more. I do things I want and do not force myself if I don’t feel like it. 

I feel like I am in my healing era. B*tch I’m gonna glow up ;)

Anyway, if you ever went through difficult things I cannot tell you how important it is to surround yourself with good people and get help. It is really hard to ask for yourself, so if you see friends struggling do not hesitate to get them help. Believe me when I say I know how hard it is to accept the fact that things aren’t going well and that you have to do something about it. It is not going to be easy, it asks for a lot of effort but you are not alone. We can get through this. And… I think it is going to be worth it.

It’s going to be 5 months since I started being medicated, and 7 months since I restarted therapy. Things are looking good right now. I know I might still face some hard times but I am going to continue trying to feel better. I promise, if you promise to try too, dear reader. <3

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🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

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This chapter tackles subjects that can be sensitive to some readers, please do not interact if you are uncomfortable.

⚠️ Warning : depiction of depressive behavior and obsessive thoughts.

Read at your own risk. - Beaucoup d’amour, Poppy.

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❀ Pansy n°5 = Reality ? No, thanks…

When life feels too bland, one’s mind can do wonders to escape it.

It may seem unreal or fake to some people, but for some minds the easiest way to cope with a negative or stressful emotional state is to dive into one’s subconscious and imagination. The reason why is pretty simple. You are free to control everything and everyone in your own head. You are able to picture and make up every landscape, every environment with anyone you would want to be with.

You are free to give yourself a dream life while escaping the difficult truth of reality.

This “ability” can be considered a skill available to anyone willing to expand and develop their imagination. Personally, I have always considered myself to be quite creative and full of imagination, so being able to increase my capability of imagining things has been awfully thrilling through the years. My mind has always been triggered by music. Easily imagining or making up epic battles on action like songs, dance routines on classical music or simply fake scenarios on chill lofi beats. 

I have so many different fake lives, it’s concerning… :/

But it is such a cathartic experience to insert yourself in your favorite universes, with your favorite characters. What’s even better is when you are so into your mind that you can feel things. With time, it happens to me more and more.

Sometimes the smell of freshly baked bread, but mostly the feeling of a warm embrace or lips softly brushing against one another…

That might be why I often have lucid dreams or why I believe in shifting. But those are pansies for another time.

Nevertheless, this dream-like ability can become dangerous to a certain extent. In fact, when the fake scenarios become an obsession, when day-dreaming becomes a daily occurrence, all in all, when all of it becomes too important… Then it becomes a problem. Then it is unhealthy.

Why does this amazing experience have to be so toxic ?

It is a way to cope, to feel good, to relieve stress - for once without the use of anything illegal 👀- but sadly it also disinterests you from reality. Some people can end up resenting even more their real life.

Come to think of it, that’s how addictions work, no ?

I am no one to tell you what to do if you relate to what I’m writing, neither am I judging anyone. Too often do I feel detached from reality because of my will to live in fantasies. It is something I want to work on - most of my pansies are about myself, my thoughts and based on my will to evolve.

So once again, I am no one to judge.

I am someone so obsessed with daydreaming that, when I am feeling down, it literally plagues my days. I only think about when I’ll have alone time to listen to music and continue the scenario where I left off. Or when I’ll be able to read self-insert fanfictions to drown even more in this shameful obsession of the unreal.

All of it fueled by the fear of reality and the tiredness of living.

Too often do I think I would like to eternally dream.

And that’s because I am conscious it has become this unhealthy obsession that I want to work on. I know that on the one hand, I like to make up scenarios because I would like to experience other environments/universes with other people. But on the other hand, I realized it is also because I can be whoever I want to be.

So lately - being in a good mindset - I am on a quest to better myself, to let myself discover who I am, who I want to be and most importantly to let myself take time to heal.

I know this won't be easy, that I won’t drastically stop to escape reality. But now I also know that to make this creative ability healthy, I have to try and find or even make a dream out of reality.

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🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

❀ Pansy n°6 = Oneiric inspiration.

oneiric |ə(ʊ)ˈnʌɪrɪk| adjective - formal → relating to dreams or dreaming. ORIGIN = mid 19th century: from Greek oneiros ‘dream’ + -ic.

I love this word. In my opinion it is a formal but beautiful way to put into words the subconscious universe that is a dream.

I love dreaming.

As I wrote in a former entry, getting too far in my head and imagination is something I do a lot, enjoy and try to make healthy. My fascination for the oneiric world started at a young age with my ability to remember my dreams. I remembered them so well that more often than not I was able to continue them on multiple nights. It was also really cool to be able to count them back to people - it created many laughs, thanks to the weird dream logic. 

Then I started working (it was not really a difficult or boring task, still it took time) on being able to remember more by forcing myself to think about what I saw straight when I woke up. Sometimes - when I was not too lazy - I wrote them down to get all the details. It is by working on those details that I started creating universes, worlds and stories of my own. I ended up with multiple characters, their backgrounds; future, relationships and development in a made up world. That is how started my first ever draft for my fantasy story. Based on dreams and worked on in my dreams. I could not stop thinking about it. In fact, that’s what happens when I get really inspired for a story, I just can’t stop picturing things in my mind, trying to make sense of it and developing my ideas. I get so focused yet I struggle to write - writer’s block am I right ? :/

However, there was one time when I had difficulties expanding my dream into a story. Why ? you may ask. Well, dear reader, it was because I was inspired by a nightmare and at first thinking about it again made it difficult for me to fall asleep - obviously… I won’t go into much detail about this nightmare because I plan on making a thriller out of it, but what intrigued me the most was that it was one of those dreams…

A lucid dream.

In fact, I knew I was dreaming and could control some of the things happening around me. I LOVE those types of dreams - except when they’re nightmares, and of course it happens to me quite a lot. Lucid dreaming was the next step to improve my “dream ability”. Those dreams are when you realize you are dreaming and can control what you can do (sometimes ^^).

Usually, to work on lucid dreaming, we are told to try and have the reflex of looking at your hands - because they’ll never be normal in your dreams. Or try and read something - yet again you’re not supposed to be able to see coherent words written. Even though I know these tricks - called “reality checks” - work, I personally just let them happen normally. 

Indeed, I have been blessed with the ability to lucid dream without much effort since I was a child - only realizing it was that as I grew up. So often do I have periods during which many lucid dreams come to plague my mind at night. It usually happens when I am in a semi-state of sleep, like half-awake. So it happens that sometimes I am too tired and the control slips out of my grasp. Still, I think it’s an amazing experience.

I guess my lucid dreams are triggered thanks to the fact that I tend to fall asleep making up scenarios and fully controlling my dreams - at that moment. And what gets me to recognize I am lucid dreaming is that I am almost always in first person p.o.v. Nevertheless, what I like the most about lucid dreams and inspires me the most - as I remember it more and it shocks me - are the sensations I get.

Yes, sensations.

Call me crazy if you want but I happen to feel so many things while dreaming - it’s mainly why I believe in shifting. Most of the time I can feel the warmth of things in my dreams, especially when I am close to someone or being embraced. Things definitely don’t feel real but they feel extremely similar. And I think it is extraordinary that you can feel in your head.

What’s even more unreal and that I particularly love, is the dream feeling of being kissed. It is just ethereal… I am someone very fond of physical affection - like, that’s literally one of my love languages - and it is just so awesome and astounding to be able to feel these types of things in your head.Once, I remember, I had a dream in which I kissed someone’s cheek and it had a little stubble, and the feeling I thought I had on my lips was just so weird and felt so real !

So it’s when I started having more and more of those feelings filled lucid dreams that I realized how fascinating and powerful the human brain really is. We can truly trick ourselves, with our own imagination ! And it is why I believe shifting to be possible/real. I, personally, am not an active shifter. I have tried, succeeded a bit and tried again sometimes but I prefer not to force it. I also think that I have succeeded a few times without realizing, so I let it come naturally.

The shifting community can be quite biased and not of the best advice on certain platforms - *cough cough* tiktok… - but also because there are “conflicts” within the community. I don’t associate with it mostly because I don’t really keep myself informed about it, so I don’t want/can’t to appear as a specialist on the matter. But… I have my opinion on how shifting might work.

I think that you are just diving so deep in your subconscious that you can explore all of its power. I like this explanation better than projecting your mind into another dimension. Moreover, I think that both the opinions I gave - among many others - still work to explain reality shifting because in the end we explore other realities regardless.

Anyway !

Shifting is harder for me as I ask myself too many questions and don’t really like to plan my dreams with scripts. Don’t get me wrong, I loved writing scripts for universes I knew I wanted to shift to, but I am always so scared of forgetting something. Plus because of my dream obsession I am scared that if I succeed, I will never want to come back. Still, I know I am never going to stop being inspired by what my mind creates.

→ Quote I like = “Everything that is or was, began with a dream” - Lavagirl.

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🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

❀ Pansy n°7 = My mind's safe space.

safe space - noun → a place or environment in which a person or category of people can feel confident that they will not be exposed to discrimination, criticism, harassment, or any other emotional or physical harm.

It’s quite easy to understand what a safe space is, but I would like to add to this definition that it can also be a person - since you’re with someone it could go into “environment” I guess. Personally, my safe spaces are my room and bed, my sisters, my family circle and my mom’s embrace. Those are things that can make me feel instantly better.

I know about these, how they affect me and especially how I struggle to live without them. Getting out of my comfort zone really isn’t my forte… :/ Though there is one place where I can always go when I need a break, a breath… It’s a safe space I created on my own to fit my fantasies and needs to help me calm down and stay serene.

I can literally go there whenever, as I carry it in my mind. Firstly, I created this mind safe space in PE in Highschool  when we were doing yoga with my favorite teacher. She helped us a lot to manage our stress and so we did a lot of meditation at the end of her classes. And for this time of peaceful concentration, she asked us to find a memory of a cherished place or even a made up one where we can feel good, calm down and fully relax.

Loving to be in imaginary headplaces, I thought of creating one - it eventually became my waiting room when I tried to shift. The place I’m about to describe truly became a safe space for me.

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This safe haven basically consists of an opening in the middle of trees. The grass has the perfect height and is a warm tone of green. In the middle of the clearing, there is a huge and beautiful lake - that I often struggle to visualize. I’d love for it to have some sort of littler waterfalls and big rocks all around as if it was more of a natural pool you might find in mountains. But my brain keeps it simple, often picturing it just as a simple body of water - but I’ll work on that :). As the soft wind blows in the trees and the grass, occasionally making the water ripple, you can find under the shade of a tree, an outdoor bed. Its wooden structure sits directly on the ground. Its soft and pristine white sheets are the perfect depiction of comfort. Its size makes it more than able to hold two people and allowing the best naps of the world - well, imaginary world.

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This is most of what I visualize when meditating, laying down in this bed to release and concentrate on myself. I also do it when I try to fall asleep, sometimes - if not most of the time - I listen to quiet and soothing music with slight rain sounds, it really calms my running mind. Yet this place is bigger than expected. In fact, I expanded it for my dream purposes.

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Behind the bed - which faces the lake - the clearing extends itself towards a small meadow made of hills. Not too far from the outdoor bed, sits a medium size cottage. I don’t really know how it looks because it’s mostly in the background but I know it’s beautiful and cozy - probably with a stone façade. I love this place dearly. Many times have I pictured myself dancing with comfort characters in the tall grass in the white outdoor bed safely tucked in someone’s strong embrace. I just can’t help but feel calm and secure there.

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I think I’d advise everyone to have a place like this, to be able to retreat somewhere when things get too much and you need to focus on yourself. As I said, it’s also good for meditation times, though it’s important to know to not picture yourself with someone at that moment as it’s a time to pay attention to yourself and it’s really important to have those times. Taking care of yourself is detrimental.

I’ll leave you to that dear reader, but not without asking you what is your mind’s safe space ! Don’t be shy to comment or DM me, I’m very curious :).

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🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

❀ Pansy n°8 = Who are my / our Husbandos ?

*sigh*

You know how therapists say - at least tiktok ones :/ - that to be ready for a relationship you have to break off your imaginary ones first ? Well for me - and many people I’m sure - it is complicated to say goodbye to thousand that much fictive lives and lovers… Especially when it’s the only way I get to fall asleep, making up fake scenarios.

I dream so much about love, I’ve got to have it in some way, no ? Be it with fictional characters, celebrities, voice actors or even made up characters, I have to dream about a significant other loving up on me. Am I exposing myself too much ? Yes, yes I am … :/ But, f*ck it.

It is really easy to imagine a life with a celebrity as they are public personalities and we know so much about their lives. Too much… Moreover, your brain - and heart - does not make the difference between real people and fictional ones. That’s why you can feel truly heartbroken when a character you’ve grown attached to is sad or dies. Real or not, it makes no difference when emotions are thrown into the mix…

→ The way I realized this was true is pretty embarrassing but I’ll tell you anyway… I was young - around 17 - and in a big as well as deep spiderman / Tom Holland period. So much that it was concerning… :/ Then, pictures of Zendaya and Tom kissing came out and their relationship was outed. And… *sigh* My first reaction was crying. I felt heartbroken but mostly pathetic and embarrassed to be affected so much by it. I was disgusted by myself, because I was crying over something - someone - that had nothing to do with me. Yet it was a true awakening. After that I stopped - or at least I think I did :/ - to get THIS attached to my dumb celebrity crushes.

It also made me realize something really important.

We don’t know who our celebrity crushes are, not really. What we see of them is only through media, dramas, speculations… Their images are controlled and a source of income for many - *cough cough* paparazzis :/. Sadly, they don’t have the chance to live freely, away from camera lenses…

And we, their fandom, play a part in their objectification. It’s important to know that the person we have a crush on, write fictions about and obsess over is a made up version of them. It’s only how we picture them, how we’d like them to be. Not how they are, because we don’t know. We can’t know. And we shouldn’t, because they have a right to privacy.

We don’t know them, exactly how they don’t know each one of us.

So now, I see it more like having a crush on a fictional character. Because that’s what they become. They have made up lives and personalities. It’s fake, it’s fictional. And it’s okay. I think it’s better than knowing every detail and overstepping boundaries in their busy and stressful lives. It might be okay to admire and be attracted to them, but it definitely isn’t if we don’t respect that they stay humans and that in their place we wouldn’t want our lives to be invaded by strangers.

Nevertheless, drawing this conclusion makes me feel even more lonely. Plus, all these imagination filled scenarios definitely don’t help to have a realistic idea of love. I feel bound to be disappointed by life and love - especially by men :/. That’s the problem with overthinking, dreaming and projecting too much… You always end up falling from the high cloud you set yourself on.

Maybe one day I’ll find “the one” - whoever it may be or if they even exist. Only time will tell, for now I’ll try and deal with the loneliness.

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🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂 𝓗𝓸𝓽𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮

- by 𝘗𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘺

- - -

9 to 5 - 5 to 9

Repeat.

Work, eat, sleep

Repeat,

Work from 9 to 5

Stare at the ceiling from 5 to 9

Repeat.

Work more, push food down your throat and feel guilty as you sleep.

Well as you wait for your brain to finally shut down,

- would it fucking finally shut down ?

Fake it till you make it they say

So you make it as you fake it.

But is it really fake if it comes so naturally ?

Does it make your smile true if you do it without thinking ?

Are you happy ?

You surely don’t feel like it but people say you seem fine.

Are you though ?

You don’t know anymore.

What do you feel ?

What is happiness anyway ? Isn’t it feeling idly calm, not being bothered by anything…

You feel like that, unbothered, plain… Empty.

All the things plaguing your mind are just too much so it’s better to lock them away, they would ruin your happiness, this idleness.

You widely prefer feeling nothing than be overwhelmed.

Surely you aren’t overwhelmed if everything seem worthless.

If it’s worthless than it is not important and not worth any attention.

- like you

Change, you needed change.

That’s why you hair is different.

Longer, shorter, greener, blonder, bluer…

You needed to feel different,

To see another thing stand out in the mirror,

To see another person in the mirror.

Because you are sick of this plain face staring right back at you, trying to expose all of this ugly truth.

Change, you wanted change.

Because when things change, then time passes

and if time passes the past passes away

You want that.

Yes, you need that.

For the past to leave, for those events to be no more in your mind.

You forget.

But that look in the mirror — those bored eyes in the glass staring right back — they reveal your soul.

It reminds you.

Yes you remember where you are, who you are, what you feel.

The reflection in the mirror, is it your true self ?

Because you definitely don’t like what it shows.

How old even are you ?

You feel like your life has the rhythm of a broken record,

Your body the energy of a corpse,

Your mind the torment of a martyr,

But you just started living.

Why are you doing this ?

Why would you do that to yourself ?

Fucking breath, stop crying and smile a bit,

Come on it’s not that hard,

Stop fucking dwelling on things.

But that’s all you can think about at night when your ceiling seems to be your only friend.

When your bed has been calling your name from the moment you woke up but now seems to want you anywhere else.

When you find yourself once again in this position, an unrequited love for sleep.

You need him but it would not hear your calls.

So its arch nemesis takes its place .

Running.

Again and again.

Without stopping.

Fusing with thoughts, ideas, images, sounds, memories, emotions…

Everything distorted, keeping your attention and your eyes wide open.

Silence.

You need silence.

- will your brain fucking shut up !?

Stop.

It has to stop.

Your erratic breathing being a useless source of concentration.

Something.

You need something to make it stop.

*sigh*

You listen.

You concentrate on it.

A strangers’ voice, laugh, humming, singing, breathing, heart beating…

It’s as if the warmth missing beside you is filled by the noise coming in your ears.

Shushing the havoc in your mind.

A sweet and warm melody lulling you into a slumber.

But your eyes are forced open by the ringing of the alarm.

How could you ? Flee reality ?

Stop fucking hoping.

- You hate hoping

Why should you get up ?

You really don’t want to.

Why does the simple thought of stepping foot out of the cover makes your eyes water ?

People wouldn’t mind anyway.

You wouldn’t mind either way.

You are still tired, you should go back to sleep then, right ?

Nothing is holding you back.

Except for the impossibly high expectations you set for yourself, the idea that every lasting moment might be decisive for your future, that you might miss something, the idea that every eye is on you and people constantly eavesdrop on your life criticizing every single one of your movement and choice…

You have to get up then.

You force yourself to.

It feels like it often, like you have to force yourself to live.

So you are tired.

You are tired as you get dressed,

You are tired as you brush your teeth,

You are tired as you wash your face

- that fucking ugly face looking at you in the mirror

You are tired as you skip breakfast,

You are tired as you tie your shoes, as you put on your coat,

You are tired as you step out of the door.

Just an empty bag on your shoulder as you drown your mind in the sound coming out of your headphones.

You weave through a faceless crowd, walking without watching because everything is a routine by now.

You are tired as you walk.

Your eyes staring into nothingness, a blank stare plastered on your face.

You must fix this before arriving, before seeing people you know, before disappointing people by letting them in on the ugly truth.

It’s only when you see that your shoelace has come undone that you realise where you are.

Your gaze is now fixated on the landscape.

Cars passing by, joggers running on the side, teenagers walking to school.

People seem so little from up here.

You feel so little here, in this world.

The air is cold, biting at your skin and making your eyes water as you can’t seem to will them closed.

Your mind is blank, your heart feels calm.

It is as if the numbness at the tips of your fingers took hold of your entire body and soul.

You stare at the sky, your mind reeling with dreams of flying — yes — of feeling free.

Maybe you should call.

It would be a good idea to call.

But if you do, wouldn’t it mean you’ve passed a point of no return ?

You don’t want to realise that, no you prefer denial, you prefer nothingness, emptiness, numbness.

But your fingers have typed the numbers and it is dialing.

The ringing filling your ears.

You have always wondered how it felt to fly.

How the wind flowing through your clothes, against your skin would make you feel free.

Yet you’ve always been the type to bury yourself in a hole hoping to see one day the blue of the sky.

And as the line seems to get cold.

- you feel numb, you’ve been burning with haste

- And you realise it now what a terrible waste

You dream that you would be an angel, with beautiful wings, able to touch the clouds.

But in the end, you know you were never meant to soar high in the sky.

As Icarus you brunt your wings down and everything came crashing down…

Finally, your mind stops reeling as another phone is ringing.

- - -

Inspired by @jackstauber ’s song “Baby Hotline”

+ ringing sounds from the song as well

Credit to @adhimuff_ and @avogado6_jp for the piece of arts I used to illustrate my words.

+ montage on CapCut.

Be aware that this piece tackles dark subjects surrounding mental health.

If you find yourself in a position as such, you should seek help (even though it is easier said than done I know) but talk to a parent or close person. Aside from that you can always reach out to a su*c*de hotline. It is very important to get help, hope is not lost. ❤️

Moreover I am conscious my prononciation isn’t perfect in this audio so I apologize for that, I’ll do better in the future 🫶🏻

- Beaucoup d’amour, Poppy ❤️

🔺Original work, please do not steal or copy. Thanks. 🔺

❀ Pansy n°7 = I'm "over"-everything.

To begin, yes, it is tiring. It’s impossibly tiring to be this prone to overwhelming. 

It never was a secret that I am an overthinker. Like my brain literally never f*cking stops, always fuming and reeling. It caused me too many insomnias - the images, sounds, memories and information in my head running and distorting without break. It’s insufferable.

Yet, that's not all. Sadly it is also difficult to survive overthinking on a daily basis. Especially in a social environment. My brain is just… dying. The world feels and seems constantly against me. I always think that everyone around me is watching and judging my every move. Looking out for the small moments when I’ll mess up and be cringe.

So it’s difficult to allow myself to act as I want because I feel like I will be judged and hated either way, never belonging to the unity. Like I am bound to stand out, to be left out by the social group. To try and avoid that, my brain analyzes everything and everyone but often is irrational. Because I over analyze how people see me, what they might think or feel; but in the end I am just projecting my fears onto them way too much. Yet, I end up stuck, struggling to fit in, alone up in my head thinking I’m not interesting, weird, not worth anyone’s time and hated by everyone.

Nice right ? :) 

My mind just tricks me to believe that I am the worst and cringiest person in the world. I have been told before that I question myself too much. In fact, I prefer to - and cannot help but - analyze every situation in which I could be the source of a problem before blaming the other party. I also try to find many excuses for others. Maybe I am too gullible and try too much to see the good in people, or that I’ve been used to caring for others before myself. The problem with this is that unconsciously I expect the same train of thought from others when most times it is not the case. Sadly, it ended up hurting me as it is easy for people to take advantage of my overthinking.

→ Toxic people (narcissistic perverts…) like to make you feel guilty - often through gaslighting - and overthinkers are the pros for that… :/

However, my cousin has been teaching me to find the positive side of those habits that I don’t like. And I came to the conclusion that this habit made me more observant and that when my worries are communicated it makes for good and deep conversations. Apparently it also makes people question themselves more - or so I’ve been told :/.

Therefore I try to be more kind to myself and calm my overthinking by communicating. It’s not easy everyday… But it is so important. As important as speaking about your feelings.

I’m still learning how good it is for oversensitive people like me. I’ve always struggled to speak up about my emotions because I always thought they didn’t have value or importance or even that I was being overdramatic, faking it. it was like I never had a good enough reason to express myself and make people lose time on me, like I’m not worth it.

So I always second guess myself and think about the true worth of communicating what’s bothering me. Because if it’s little and I’m just blowing it or that in the end it turns out I was tricking myself and faking it unconsciously, I’ll just feel ultra guilty of wasting someone’s time and energy. Especially as I strive to make people around me feel good, safe, heard and comfortable (with me). And I know I tend to blow things out of proportion. Like I feel horrible when someone makes a tiny and precise criticism about my work even though I did all the rest well. Because it’s like I disappoint them by not doing good enough. 

The problem with me is that “good enough” has to be as close to “perfect” as possible. Simply because if I put energy in it I should go 100% and nail it. If it’s not the case then why waste time and embarrass myself ? Though I’ve been trying to understand - more to assimilate - that everyone’s 100% is different and even that every day’s 100% is different. And that’s completely okay and normal.

I’ve just been taught at school that you have to keep a high constant of activity even though it’s obviously not possible. 

Disappointing people is one of my greatest fears. I think that might be why I take things too personally all the time. So many times I tear up when someone makes a remark to a group I belong to, and even if I shouldn’t feel concerned I question myself and feel horrible. “I should’ve thought of it.”“I should’ve done it.”“I didn’t do good.” I hardly let myself fail as I haven’t failed much. So I pressure myself to keep my high average by being the most excellent. Yet I can hardly hold on anymore… It’s logical that I end up burned out. I overdid it and now I'm over it.

I am over with life.

At least that is what I think a lot but I’m working on it. I am trying to be done with being over-pessimistic. It’s not over for me, and if it’s not for you either, dear reader… Then,...

Let’s get over it together <3. 

✿❀✿

🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

Just sat down, opened my laptop, put on some lovely fantasy music in the background, got ready to write down something - anything - for my fantasy novel project as I've been feeling motivated and inspired to pick it back up lately... YET I CAN'T WRITE A THING.

UGH I hate writer's block... I hate my overthinking mind which tells me I haven't prepared enough to be able to write or wanting to ONLY start by the begining and not just make some sort of advancement...

I'll just close my laptop again and go back to daydreaming about my story - cause that's the only thing I'm able to do with it apparently lmao

Drunken Feelings

I can’t get you off my mind.

“I’m sorry.” 

You said.

“Are you okay?”

You asked.

Through a forced smile I say,

“I’m fine.”

But I’m not fine.

I feel like my whole world is collapsing.

I want you.

I need you.

Why can’t you see?

I’ve fallen in love with you.

I miss your arms around me.

I miss the feeling of your lips on my lips.

I miss feeling your body pressed up against mine.

I miss the deep conversations we would have at 2AM.

“We can still remain friends.”

You said.

I shouldn’t have agreed.

My heart hurts every time I see you.

All the feelings I try to keep bottle up come rushing back.

My heart aches when I see your name pop up on my phone.

I used alcohol to try and drown out your face.

It didn’t work.

It just makes me miss you even more.

It makes me feel my emotions tenfold.

It makes me cry out with frustration and anguish.

I miss you.

I need you.

Why did you make me fall in love with you?

Carpet in the Sand

This is an original poem that I wrote about three years ago, right after I graduated from high school.

Salty air ruffles tents and our clothes Our friends lay in the sand on these late July nights. We chat and smoke and fall in love with the stars All our paths intertwining with one another’s again.

And my mind thinks of you and wishes  that your’s had never separated from mine.

I become drunk on the song of the waves,  imagining your lips muttering “ What a lovely view.”  

For J

I'm not asking you to love

To be honest I don't know if I could return the feeling 

But if I could ask something of you 

I would ask that you pine after me

That you think about me when you look out over the rolling hills as you drive to work

Or that you can still feel my kisses long after I have left you 

The way I giggled when your nose touched my neck for the first time

That you swear my perfume is still on your clothes no matter how many times they go through the wash

I want you to sit alone and overhear a conversation and remember something that I said and then you laugh to yourself but get embarrassed because the people who see are judging you and really try to transport me there with you 

That sometimes you can feel the ghost of my hand against your palm. 

Then it grows and covers the rest of your skin, like an itch that's odd yet comforting 

You rub your fingers together, wondering if you're going crazy 

And as your day goes by, you notice sexual innuendos in everything, like who many times can a person hears the words " climax" and " erupt" and natural grunts and sighs in an English class and not think about them coming out of my mouth and how good it feels that you're the reason why 

That you sit in your car and think about the excitement and fear and warmth and shivers that wouldn't stop expelling from your body as we dove on the highway and you prayed that I wouldn't notice 

That you pass by people and places and think that you see me or that you can magic me coming around the corner into your arms but you are not that lucky 

That you get jealous whenever you just see a Hispanic woman with another man 

That your fist clenched with bitterness and unshed tears because why can't you have that 

That you think about getting in your car and driving 3 and a half hours to come to my town and you will find me and spend every moment after in my dorm on my twin bed

Singing hymns and love songs into each other's skin

But then you realize that's way out of line and just end up wondering what color my comforter is 

Then you start to look at my Instagram a lot 

An unsettling amount and feel gross doing it but…

There's only like three photos and they're old 

You hope that I'll post anything just to be sure I'm not a figment of your imagination

That you can see me and hear me and feel me

You find my Facebook that hasn't been touched in months 

Other posts with me in them from other peoples accounts from long before you knew me

You wish we'd known each other forever

And sometimes 

In those really early hours of the morning when you can't sleep and feel like the only person in the world 

You dream while you're awake, you let your mind go far

More than you would ever tell anyone 

Things that you would never dare tell anyone, not even me 

But ohhhhh 

You wish you could 

The next spring and summer and autumn and winter all lay at your feet like a Tralfamadorian novel

" No beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we love are the depths of the many marvelous moments seen all at once."

It's all as clear as it ever could be 

Laughter, pillow talk, fights, forgiveness, drives, farmers markets, late nights, dive bars, kickbacks, no contact, all day conversations, lust, apocalypses, new days, never-ending light.

Meeting my mother and hoping she’ll like you but I already know it will go bad but you're here to stay and she warms up to you soon 

Ifs, whats, yeses, nos, maybes, thens, nevers, always.

All more and more petrifying yet alluring 

I'm not asking you to love me 

I'm too afraid that it'd scare you off

But I want at least one of these to go through your mind

Because they seem to never leave mine.

Oh, my darling. I know you are not a Cathedral, but you’re no less holy.

- Unused bits from a never-finished book

Tales from fiction writing class

Something you remember but you’re not sure why

I don’t know why I remember the light brown mushrooms that would sometimes grow by the flagpole. 

Sometimes, in the early hours of the morning, when I would be a safety patrol at my elementary school, it would be my job to raise the flag outside at the front of the building. The pole was surrounded by a circle of concrete that was surrounded by a circle of yellow and purple marigolds. On the side closest to the building, occasionally, there would be a mushroom that would grow there. 

Somedays, I would walk over it and try not to notice it, giving it only a sideways glance. Then, somedays, I would enjoy stepping on it and feeling my shoe softly squish it down into the dirt. I would never touch it with my hands because it could be poisonous and it would get in my mouth and kill me. 

I stomp it down then wait a month for it to regrow then I stomp it back down. Then the school gardener found out about it constantly regrowing and pulled it out by the roots and I was sad.  

this might be an unpopular opinion but I actually really like alden parker... I don’t see him as a replacement for gibbs, just a different direction for ncis

don’t get me wrong though, the show will never be the same without gibbs but there’s just something about alden and I can’t wait to see what he brings to the team (apart from his international pastries, of course)