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vxnevermorevx · 5 years

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Welcome to my mind

For the last three years, my mind has been... Well, shit. Not that it hadn't been on a steady decline for years prior.

Recently, someone named her Denise. My other me. "Because that's what she is..when something is the opposite of something it's de-. She's not nice, she's De-Nice..."

Denise.

The name give to the me that's not me but spends more time pretending to be me than I do.

*Character Bio*

When I'm not Denise, I'm Ginny and she was the most wonderful person. I miss her dearly.

I had a great childhood. Very few psychological events, in my opinion. We never had much money, but my mom made sure I never knew it. My father worked hard at both his job and destroying his marriage; which is probably one of the marks on my childhood. More to come on that, I'm sure.

I didn't have trouble in school, per se. Bullied only a handful of times in all my school years. My mom is a designer, so I wore things you couldn't find on stores throughout my whole school life. I was *always* ahead of the trend and some kids couldn't handle it. We're talking 1991-2003. So, jumpers, corsets, mesh dusters, pants with fur on the bottom, dressing like anime characters... I was the first of everyone around me to be dressing that way. And I loved it!

But I had my revenge, as my hecklers could be seen wearing the same things they made fun of me for, after it became trendy. I guess you didn't have to be dead to be caught wearing that after all...

I struggled in math and excelled in art and writing. I had mostly good teachers, I think only one hated me.

I met all my best friends there. Can't say I've made all that many more in the years since. But, in my defense I'm surrounded by people who are nothing like me. You see, I grew up in Florida. All my vital youthful years were spent there. And now I live near Portland, Oregon. God, why? I even lost one of my dearest friends to the city. She completely changed from a fun, artistic girl who liked to draw, read, and cook...to...one of them. She's now a guilt vegan ( let's you know how disgusting you are for eating meat ) and is obsessed with shows that need to be cancelled. I had known this girl since first grade, she said she would follow the first friend who loved out of state. That was me, so she came out here too. Our friendship immediately began deteriorating as she would not allow me in my own room during the day, because she was talking to some loser friend of hers online. This person left her in a Walgreen's 20 miles from her home, on the wrong side of town, when we were all barely old enough to drive, because she was taking too long looking at eyeliner. But, she sounds like a solid individual to begin emulating. Are you serious? I watched my fully replacement take effect. 20 years of friendship completely gone in a matter of months. Have you ever watched someone stop carrying about you? Think about it. No, don't think about it. It's awful. She even physically ended our friendship. The first I had ever experienced. It was wrenching. But, I'm too far ahead now. I need to tell you how I got to Oregon.

Somewhere around me being 16, my dad stopped coming home. His mother had recently died and he knew some pretty shitty people willing to help him take the pain away. How does a poor, dyslexic, hoodlum, with a history of abuse cure the blues? Crack, of course. My mom did all she knew how to do, but she was pretty done with it all. They got divorced and some rich old lady "saved" him and whisked him off to Maryland where he would suffer many years of depression for what he had done to his family.

Now, it was just my mother and me. I immediately got a job and gave her my entire paycheck to help keep us in our lovely house. But as fate would have it, the city claimed eminent domain on our house with plans to build a water treatment facility. So, they lowballed us on what our house was worth and gave us 6 months to move. Now, here's some important side information: my mom is an army brat who grew up with mountains her whole life, until moving to Florida for my dad, which was apparently one of the last places she ever wanted to be. And my chummy from another tummy, was born in Oregon and had recently left me to go to OSU. This girl is my sister by all counts but blood. So, with a few other helping factors the logical answer was to start anew. How completely different my life would have been if I stayed. Can't say it would be better, just 100% different from what it is now.

But, in 2005 we moved to Oregon on the promise that we would do all the things we wanted to do and be living in Seattle in a few years.

None of that worked out. I can still remember the first night we spent in our apartment. I hated it. I let everyone know too. I think I cried for a week. I just wanted to go home. My Sisi was too far away to see her more often than the weekends and slowly her grades began to falter. This led to her dropping out and moving back to Florida just five months after I moved out here for her. I fell apart. I had only my mom and I love her, but sometimes you need your friends... You know? We did what we could and took jobs we hated and tried to get used to our new surroundings. I'm apparently a spoiled brat so I'm sure I made things painful for my mom who was finally back in her element and here I was stomping around telling everyone how much I hated it. Hate it. Present tense. I know the whole world is a cess pool of hipster, millennial idiots who all think that they know how to run the world, but the concentration of their free-for-all holier-than-thou ways is as dense here as the trees. It's exhausting listening to people who haven't showered in a week tell you how special they are because they have this heightened awareness that they learned from some Joe Blow and happens to not be fact at all. I have had a 24 year old Hispanic girl tell me that only white people can be racist, everyone else is prejudice. I told her that that in itself was a racist statement. And she said "no it's not. My teacher told me, and she has a PhD." I don't think I need to explain the definition of racism, but I do think Manson could have thrived in this town.

Fast forward quite a few years and we are both still in Oregon working jobs we hate not getting any of the things done we said we would. Are we lazy? Are we depressed? I'm sure it's both.

But, a small miracle comes my way, as I'm getting dressed to go down to the office to sign the next years lease I get a call from a woman who used to work with me. She asks if we are still looking for a new place to live and I tell her yes! We end up renting her townhouse from her because she's getting married. She proves to be a terrible landlord, probably because she's not all that good at being a person. She's really great at other things, but not that. Somme people are like that. But, I also haven't learned how to speak Oregonian in the 14 years I have been here.

A few more years and we end up buying the house and I have changed jobs for my health and things are looking up. I lose some of the weight I had acquired in my sorrows. I even find a guy that I can tolerate. Mostly bc he's 4000 miles away in another country. But, I struggle to find my way in our incredibly mismatched relationship. And he's so smart. So, successful... Here it comes... "what's he doing with a loser like me?"

My friends.... They all have something to show for their lives: degrees, children (Im not interested in these things,) husbands, jobs they don't hate....

I have a mortgage and a ridiculously high HOA, two payed off cars, 50 extra pounds on my ass, a job I'm not particularly built for, and a guy whom I love differently than he loves me.

I'm killing it.... Or myself. One way or the other. "I still haven't figured that shit out yet " -Eddie Murphy

I think this a pretty good place to stop for now. You should have a good amount of reference points for the following posts which will entirely be me, describing my chronic severe depression hoping that someone somewhere might read it and know they are not alone. I feel such a sense of validation when I read something from someone who feels the same as I do. This blog isn't for attention or critiquing, as most will likely be written when things like grammar and story structure aren't focused on. It's purely to get the chaos out so, I can organize it.

I don't know who you are but if you're reading this far, please stay tuned if you want to say "Wow, that's exactly how I feel."

Do good.

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immiesradio-blog · 5 years

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You’re My Best Friend ~ Roger Taylor x OC (1961)

Barbara sat back and reminisced whilst on her train journey to London, remembering the most extraordinary past few years of her life. Although she felt a slight bit of sadness, even with the tiny smile evident on her face. She couldn't help but think that if it wasn't for her, maybe things would have panned out differently.

September 1961

"I'm sure you'll be fine, Sweet, enjoy yourself, make some new friends!" Her mother told her as she packed a ham sandwich into Barbara's bag, an excitable smile etched its way across her lips.

Barbara was in no way convinced that she'd have any fun on her first day of school. As an eleven year old girl, she was more interested in the idea of staying home in her cute little pastel purple room reading or playing with her dolls house.

It was a new start for her at Truro Cathedral school and her mother was in high hopes that Barbara would fit in this time. Barbara had trouble getting along with other children her age, mostly because of the fact that she'd find them snickering or giving her funny looks when she was around and had no idea why, so she kept quiet.

Growing up with a love for Piano and drawing, this is what she preoccupied herself with doing. Sticking up doodles of her as a pretty princess on her wall was what she loved doing.

Nevertheless, a week turned into a year at school and she was still the same old Barbara, little and lonely. she often found herself spending most of her breaks either in library, music practice rooms or in her school's art room.

She was oblivious and indifferent to the fact that hardly anyone would speak to her. Only a few were people she would consider as being friends until one day. Nearly thirteen year old Barbara went about her usual routine, lessons, break time, lessons, lunch time. Immediately walking her way towards the small music rooms and into her favourite one with the best piano, along with some other instruments such as the Guitar and even a drum kit, the only one in the school.

The piano was one of her only friends, the moment that she began playing it for the first time years ago she had grown a connection with it, especially with the one that she had at home in her room. It hadn't been too long before her playing was interrupted by knock at the door of the room.

Barbara lifted her finger slowly off of the piano key as her head shifted to her left. The door opened and Mrs Miller's face appear at the door frame.

"Sorry to interrupt dearie, would you mind sharing the room?" She asks, flashing a kind smile when she sees Barbara nod. No longer than a few seconds later a boy appeared, "This is Roger Taylor, he's new here and would like to try playing the drums."

The fair haired boy seemed to be around her age, perhaps slightly older but definitely in the same year. They made eye contact for the first time as Mrs Miller left them be and Barbara didn't know what to say apart from, "I'm Barbara Rosabella."

"Hi." He replies, his voice high pitched and small as he takes small steps into the room, immediately stepping towards the drum kit placed across the room.

He was no longer within Barbara's vision as her piano was facing away from the drums and she stayed sat down quietly, waiting for the silence to end and for him to begin playing the drums to no avail.

"Just pretend I'm not here, I'll keep quiet." She mutters in a small voice, her head hung low staring down at the keys of the piano.

About a minute had passed before he began tapping away at the drums with the sticks in his hands. Roger had only recently started playing the drums after being in his first band in which he played the Ukulele. He practically had no idea what he was doing with himself and the instrument before him and Barbara could tell as she smiled to herself at some of his off-beats.

"I've only just started playing if you haven't already noticed," Roger states with a hint of a smile on his face and slightly turning himself around on the stool that he was sitting on.

She couldn't help but let out a short giggle while turning her head around to glance at him,"You're really not that bad."

They made eye contact the second time, this time with little grins on their faces when they both realised that they were joking with each other. Somehow both of them knew that this wouldn't be the last time that they would talk.

"Are you in here often?"

"Yes, I am. Every lunch," she replies, slightly embarrassed at the fact that she wasn't even joking a little bit about that statement, every word of it was true. Her head moved back to facing the piano in front of her, waiting for him to reply.

"Would it be okay if I also came here at lunch? We could always just take turns, you know, me playing the drums and you, the piano?" Barbara hears him ask and she nods almost immediately in response.

Every single day Roger would come to practice the drums with her in the room, and as the days progressed he was showing improvement in his skill in playing, learning a new rhythm daily. Barbara had also done the same with Piano, each day attempting to play a new piece.

"Afternoon, Belle." He'd greet her, a small smile on his face.

"Belle? Where'd you get that from?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowed but with a hint of amusement shown on her face.

He stood still for a second, his eyes squinting in confusion, "Isn't that your name?"

Barbara shakes her head, giggling, "It's Barbara. You may have got my second name mixed up with my first. Barbara Rosabella."

He giggles with her, "Must've been because of your last name," and from that day on he called her 'Belle' regardless and it made her feel content.

They clearly both loved each other's company and each day Barbara would become a little more comfortable around him as a little bond formed between them. Whenever it was his turn to play drums and he'd make a slight error in the beat that he was making he would grin widely at her and jokingly slap himself in the face with both drumsticks, the young girl's heart would melt unknowingly at this.

Soon this bond progressed into a friendship where they would spend time with each other in and out of the room where they had first met. Roger and Barbara made sure that they were sat next to each other in all the lessons that they had together: Art, History, Music and English being some of them. Roger would pass notes to Barbara, some of them made her laugh so much that their teacher would have to separate them or give them a detention.

Barbara became a much more cheery and positive girl in general and her mother was one of the first people to notice along with her older sister Anita who knew exactly why considering the fact that she was attending the same school as her younger sister, although she was almost coming to an end to her time as a secondary school student, she'd seen her sister walking along the corridors with a boy to their lessons side by side every day from year seven to eight.

The fourteen year old came home everyday with a large toothy smile on her face all because of the best friend that she had found in none other than Roger Taylor. She would then go straight to her room, working on her piano and drawing for hours and hours on end.

Her mother would ask Anita about Barbara and what she got up to at school and of-course the older sister would answer truthfully, telling their mother about her friend. That night at dinner Barbara's mother couldn't help but ask about this boy who had changed her little girl into this new bubbly, happy and hard-working person.

"Everything going okay at school, Darling?" Their mother asks at first, the question seemingly innocent before she elaborates, "Any friends?"

The look that Barbara's mother gave her had instantly given it away, "Anita!" She whines at her older sister who just laughs.

"What's his name?" Her mum asks, showing extreme interest what she had to say about the boy.

Barbara smiles to herself as she mutters his name loud enough for her to hear, "Roger Taylor. He's my best friend."

"You're lucky that your father isn't here to hear this conversation." She answers humorously and added, "When do I get to meet him?"

"We're only friends mum! Please don't get any ideas." Barbara claims as she takes a sip of her orange juice in front of her and feeling her face heat up in embarrassment at her mother's question, "Can we please talk about something else?"

"When will Dad be coming back from his business trip?" Anita asks, saving Barbara from any more humiliation.

"I don't know Ani, I haven't heard much from him, a few weeks I suppose?" Their mother replies, her tone was sad and it was so obvious that something was wrong. Barbara and Anita's father was hardly home and neither of the girls had a close relationship with him as whenever he was home he'd be commanding and controlling over them. Barbara could never touch her piano whenever her father was home, he hated the instrument, music, or any other form of creativity. Barbara was so so clueless, she was too young to understand that at the time her father was having affairs with several other women on these business trips, while her mother knew what her husband was doing while he was away, she always tried to her hide her sadness with a dead smile.

"You did this?!" Roger asks in disbelief, picking up the illustration that Barbara had been working on the night before, "It's incredible!"

She really had not spent that much time on it, and definitely wasn't expecting Roger to react to it in the way that he did. His enthusiasm and excitement towards her work only made her want to create more and more and more. He always seemed to believe in her more than anyone had ever done and she'd always remember the day when he had heard her singing one of her favourite songs under her breath. Roger thought that her singing was one of the most beautiful sounds that he had ever heard and often asked her to sing whenever they'd be practicing their music in their little room to which she'd be conscious of, but with his encouragement, she'd sing songs that either of them had written or songs that they had an affection for.

After years of being close friends, it was only until they were fifteen that they had realised how close they lived to each other. They walked home together every single day after school, although some days they had been paired up together to work on some English or Science homework which meant that they'd either go to his or her home. She made sure that whenever her father was home that her and Roger would not be working at hers, making any excuse to avoid her domineering father.

Some days they would get no work done whatsoever, other days they wouldn't even attempt to do the work that they had been set. Instead, they'd run all the way to the local beach and enjoy each other's company. Roger would chase Barbara across the sand, both of them tripping over their feet, jumping into the water and creating sand castles.

If they ever did get to work, it would take them hours and hours to complete the work that they had been set, but this was only because they'd end up in fits of laughter or started talking about what awaited them in the future, or even some songwriting.

Roger always spoke about studying Biology and Dentistry, that, that was what he wanted to study when he left school. Barbara believed in him and knew that he could achieve anything if he really wanted to, even though she couldn't help but feel as though he was destined to be a Musician. She also told him that she wanted to study Design in the future and he was in complete agreement and supportive of this.

It was so obvious that Barbara had a little crush on Roger and visa versa, but both of them were so young and hardly in touch with their feelings. Other students at their school would tease them about their close friendship. Barbara was so innocent that at the age of fifteen had only just started wondering what it would feel like to kiss a boy, and only because she'd seen other girls her age being young and in love.

One day when both Roger and Barbara had to work on some English with each other, they decided to work at his home for the rest of the day. She couldn't remember how their conversation had led to the topic of 'kissing', but it did, both of them had not kissed anyone before and they thought nothing about the consequences of touching their lips with their own. The kiss lasted no longer than three seconds, no movement whatsoever. Their hearts fluttered, but they never spoke a word of it again and remained the same best friends that they had always been, nevertheless, it was all that they would think about, feeling the familiar stomach flutter while doing so and not knowing why.

But poor Barbara Rosabella had so obliviously left her heart with Roger Taylor ever since that moment in the year of 1965.

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I really really really really hope you liked this opening to this lil love story. It would be really helpful to hear feedback so any comments would be amazingggggggggg. I'm so happy that I'm finally writing this story, I have been thinking about it for so long so putting my thoughts into an actual book is going to be an experiencee

Also the pic at the top is the two of themm together (a lil ps manipulationnnn) :)))))

Thank you for reading and again, I really hope you liked it!!!

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x oc #queen #prologue #fanfic #fanfiction #slowburn #love #love story #romance #best friend #roger meddows taylor #youre my best friend #queen x reader #barbara palvin #barbara rosabella #oc

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