Can’t wait till my hair grows out again so I can look like a fruity little prince (with the body of a bear), a cub prince if you will.

hey, i don't want to overwhelm you, but do you think there would be another part for the end of the line series in the future that deals with the course of the first pregnancy?

everything is fluffy and smutty.

sebastian is the very best husband ever and wants to take care of everything while his wife just sits there making her baby and just looking irresistibly sexy doing it.

he is so incredibly sweet and holds her hair when she throws up. the weeks of nausea are terrible and it hurts his body and soul to see her like this, but of course, as always, he manages to make everything better and more bearable.

he always pays a lot of attention to her belly and kisses every inch of it. he keeps stroking it, snuggles up to it and tells his unborn child everything and nothing. he teams up with it against his wife, who just has to giggle about it.

and don't forget bedtime. he turns his dramatic and super hot love story with his wife into a child-friendly fairy tale.

when she gets into her insatiable phase, seb is right there and satisfies her in every imaginable way, just as she needs it. be it his hands, his tongue or his big cock. she is so much more sensitive than usual and already falls apart at his appearance and the look he gives her. god she needs him. it's best if he never stops pounding into her.

and if she feels like a fat and ugly whale for even a second, he's there to wipe that bold statement out of her mouth. just the fact that she's carrying HIS child turns him on. damn it. if you think all the boners before their relationship were a torture you cut yourself. the sight of her and her growing belly makes him so hard that not even several cold showers would help. luckily he doesn't have to hold back anything anymore.

he takes care of it and in her future pregnancies so she doesn't give it a second thought about how she looks.

(maybe that could be used for another fic if it doesn't fit here) but seb will definitely not stop talking about the pregnancy at work and subliminally bragging about it. he's so damn proud and soo in love with his family.

and yes, leander (or whoever he hates working at the auror office right now), he and his wife are fucking each other and now the loveliest baby is on the way! remember it!

and seb often goes for walks with her as long as she feels good enough for it. everyone should know that HIS wife carries HIS child. she's HIS and he's HERS!!!!!

and when his wife wants to take revenge for everything he does for her and fails to surprise him, seb is also there to make everything better. he is everything to her and she can't stop crying. those stupid hormones. she finally wanted to do something for him and then he does something for her again. but she doesn't need to worry. a shared bath makes everything good again. seb is happy when you are happy.

and when it's time and the baby comes, seb will go a bit crazy and maybe or maybe not he'll smack his buddy garreth. all the orgasms must have helped, right? or? everything will be fine. she will be fine and his baby is healthy and beautiful. omg it's coming he has to keep his nerve. luckily uncle ominis aka the mother of the group is there. he always struggled with those two idiots when they just danced for their feelings. then childbirth will also be easy peasy!

(that was a very long text and i hope it wasn't too much for you. these are all just ideas. if you're considering writing something like this, you can just use it and tinker with how the muse is kissing you in this moments.

i just wanted to get my thoughts out there and you always write everything so damn beautifully. i love you and your writing. and please take your time to think about it if you would like to write about it.)

♥︎♥︎♥︎

I’ve been sitting on this for a few days because I wanted to comb through it and absolutely try to incorporate some of this into End of the Line !! I’m still playing around with how I’ll start it but you actually gave me a couple ideas with this so HELL YEAH, THANK YOU MY DEAR !! 💞

I’m half considering writing it in a timeline sequence but we’ll see 🤷🏻‍♀️

BLOGTOBER PRE-GAME 9/30/2020: 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE/CONFESSIONAL (2019)

Spoiler alert. Or whatever. It’s not going to matter, you don’t care.

So, I've been away for a minute. Just about any reason to be away from Tumblr is probably a good reason, but I have an especially good one. I'm finally working on a "real" writing project, which demands, and deserves, all of my attention. My social media abstinence isn't just a matter of time management, though. Once I had a long term obligation on my plate, I became very aware of how the short term satisfaction I get from posting mindless rants was eating away at the fuel I have available for sustained efforts. When I wind myself up with a 500-1000 word blog post, it generates a lot of electricity, but I blow it all as soon as I experience the catharsis of posting it, and I'm further pacified by ego-stroking likes and reblogs. Not to sound like a sanctimonious luddite--I mean, I'm still here, after all!--but it turns out that the staying focused on the long haul has been surprisingly revivifying. In fact, I haven't been talking about my big fancy project for the same reason; I don't want to lose any of the juice I've been storing up by wasting it on the shallow pleasure of describing it. Also such things should probably be somewhat confidential until they're approaching the publishing stage, but I digress! There is an actual reason I'm saying all this, that has more to do with this blog.

(Don’t get all excited, I’m not doing EVIL ED right now, I just need a relatable image.)

As I got deeper into my experience of "real" film writing, I started to reflect on the meaning of my personal writing. Like, the point of it. I tend to write in a sweaty, compulsive, sadomasochistic haze, in which I'm sometimes hyperbolically generous, and sometimes--perhaps more often, unfortunately--as nasty as humanly possible. Sometimes the movies deserve it, when they're lazy, pretentious, or otherwise demonstrate an open contempt for the audience aka ME. Often, though, I'm just creating an opportunity to vent my generalized rage and frustration. That can be very entertaining for myself and (hopefully) my teensy-but-devoted readership, but lately I've asked myself whether there isn't some negative tradeoff for all this amusement. In this phase of my life, it's reasonable to assume I'll make more and more friends and acquaintances who create things I don't always care for, but I don't necessarily think they deserve to be abused for it. As much as I have a right to say whatever I want, technically, I'd be embarrassed if I were caught just jacking myself off by making fun of their work in public. And more to the point, I don't necessarily want to contribute to the growing atmosphere in which people feel more afraid to try and fail, because the public so commonly misidentifies sarcasm and mean-spiritedness as intelligence and superiority, and that form of petty darkness spreads across the internet a lot faster than a movie can reach a wider audience. After all, I'm in the process of potentially turning myself into one of those well-meaning failures right now. I could stand to be a little more deliberate about how I speak, and about what, in general.

My father is an art critic, and once in an extra petulant moment, teenage-me asked him in an accusative tone what he thought the point of his profession was. He replied calmly that he wouldn't publish any comment that he didn't think the artist could make use of somehow. I don't know if he always stuck to that policy, but the thought sure stuck with me.

So anyway, over the last few months I've been giving myself a bit of an attitude adjustment, through a combination of personal reflection, and hard work on something meaningful/not for the internet. I've been feeling all proud of myself and shit, but today reminded me that any path to enlightenment is always marked by setbacks, doubt, and temptation. For today, in complete innocence (or at least a melange of innocence and ignorance, as I very much invite this type of problem), I managed to watch TWO (2) movies about an academic film-cum-psychology project, focused on a gang of college buddies who inevitably reveal what bad people they are under the unique conditions of the project, and then the project turns out to be run NOT by its presumed-dead originator, but by the originator's even-crazier lover. It's amazing how particular something can be, and still be utterly obvious and cliche. In my defense, I really tried to turn the second movie off, because it was...just instantly terrible, but the seed of suspicion had taken root--is this randomly selected movie ACTUALLY EXACTLY THE SAME AS THE PREVIOUS MOVIE?--and I just had to find out if this could be true. I suffered, deliberately, for another hour and a half, to confirm my awful hunch. I don't know how I would have felt if I had turned out to be wrong (better? worse?), but I don't have to worry about that now. Now I just have to worry about my overpowering impulse to be as ugly as possible about what I have personally subjected myself to.

(The completely deceptive poster for our not at all witchy or eerie opening feature.) 

In need of a passable time-waster this afternoon, I put on 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE. Released in March of 2019, Caitlin Koller's claustrophobic black comedy feels oddly like a product of 2020. A group of estranged, middle-aged college pals of the BIG CHILL ilk--which one of the characters calls out, out loud, just so ya know--come together for a fallen comrade's funeral, only to find themselves trapped in his widow's increasingly creepy cabin in the woods. Said comrade was driven to suicide by the failure of a psychological experiment he conducted that plunged its subject into madness, and if you don't realize right away that the obnoxious and unstable cast are the new subjects of their not-quite-dead friend's renewed project, then you're firing a lot slower than 24 frames per second. The dialog is often decent, aiding a handful of funny, natural performances...but it's hard to forget that you're just waiting for the conspicuously crazy widow to reveal that the "unexplained events" in and around the cabin are part of a controlled attempt to get the guests to devolve into their worst selves, which isn't such a difficult task considering the undesirable state they all arrive in.

It just made me ask myself, what was the point of this? Why do people make movies that are entirely predicated on the shock of the twist, knowing that if the twist isn't so shocking--or is baldly obvious from the start--then the whole experience just falls apart? Why not hedge your bets with a little more depth, or purpose, or style, or really anything more reliable than a smug attempt to prove that your script is smarter than your audience? Even if you do manage to pull off this dubious accomplishment, it reduces your movie to something like the experience of having somebody jump out of a closet and scream in your ear to "get" you. I've always felt concerned that if somebody ever tries to "get" me like that, I might just automatically punch them in the face. But anyway, whatever shred of good will this movie could have accrued with its plucky performances is blown away by the final insult, when the cops arrive to clean up the inevitable bloody mess. The responding officers are hilariously unimpressed and unsurprised by the byzantine scheme that has resulted in a shocking act of violence, because the cabin's "guest book", which our heroes all filled out, was actually the signatory page of a complicated waiver form granting full permission to the hosts to, like, do whatever the hell they want to everybody. Presumably this shit just goes on all the time, leading the local law to shrug off anything that happens to or because of the dumbassed lab rats who frequent the cabin? I dunno. I mean, what can I say? ACAB, I guess!

At the time, I managed to resist the urge to take to the internet and decry the crimes of this lame-o party joke. I really don't like the sensation that a movie is just trying to trick me into thinking something that isn't true. But, this isn't, like, an affront to cinema. People make annoying, below average movies all the time, and maybe you kinda have to, if you eventually want to make better movies. I imagine myself in the shoes of the people who actually put some elbow grease into this production, having to wade through the rantings of internet ghouls like myself while they're trying to see how their efforts are paying off. Making a movie is probably a lot harder than I think it is.

But that's part of the point I'm heading toward. I'm always amazed by people's willingness to pour huge amounts of energy and capital into something to which there is ultimately very little point. I mean, I have bad, unoriginal, boring ideas every single day of my life. But I almost never DO any of them. I have a hard enough time convincing myself to just get out of bed in the morning, let alone devote blood, sweat, and money to deliver unto the world material evidence of my personal mediocrity. I can't imagine thinking it would be worth it, for myself or the unfortunate people who are subjected to my project, to actually execute on my bad ideas. I'm being judgmental, but honestly, I don't even know if my attitude makes me better or worse than someone who accomplishes the task of completing and selling a movie that's mainly a waste of time. Movies are so complicated, and realizing them requires the consensus of so many people, that it's sort of incredible that there are people capable of making one that doesn't have a powerfully compelling motivation behind it. People who are able to do such a thing obviously have something that I don't, and it isn't just "consideration for the audience."

So, I could probably stand to be more forgiving--or just, less eager to absolutely flay someone alive on my dumb little blog because they so opened themselves up to my arsenal of elaborate insults. But like...not all the time. Sometimes, a movie really fucking asks for it, and in revealing itself to me, it has effectively signed a waiver giving me patent freedom to do whatever I want to it. CONFESSIONAL is the latest movie to give me such a gift. After the final credit rolled in 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE, I looked for a little palate cleanser. As little as I like movies that put their single egg in the motheaten basket of a "shocking twist", I also have a problem with what I identify as canned theater. Not that I think all movies have to be lavish productions, but I think they should try to do something that is natively cinematic. It's very rare that I'm impressed by anything that is literally all talk. So, I went in search of some more familiar form of trash to help me recallibrate, and trash is definitely what I got.

(Me crying over my own bad decisions.)

To be fair, I kind of should have known that I was in for a challenging experience. The 2019 found footage thriller CONFESSIONAL is more or less based on the "confessional" part of sleazy reality TV shows, isolating each cast member in a soundproof stall so they can spill the rotten contents of their guts. Unfortunately, I spotted a review suggesting that the movie succeeded, against all odds, at remaining visually dynamic despite the unchanging scenery, and I was intrigued. The reviewer was correct, impressively; the monotony of the coffin-like environment with its dark foam walls was the least of my concerns. Other problems superseded that threat, immediately. The plot concerns a group of college pals who come together to remember a recently deceased friend--a filmmaker who expired mysteriously while completing a psychology-tinged project in which she recorded all of her friends' most shameful personal secrets. Now, somebody else has taken over the project...someone who "has never been identified", according to an early title card in this movie-within-a-movie (EVEN THOUGH THIS PERSON WILL BE EXPLICITLY IDENTIFIED AT THE END OF THE MOVIE SO LIKE WHY), but who seems likely to be the decedent's ex-lover...who continues to expose their subjects' most shameful secrets on film. I mean, what the fuck? Did I somehow manage to pick a second movie with almost the exact same plot??? I couldn't believe it. I didn't know if I could take it. My prospects only got worse when the cast showed up and started talking. I tried to turn the movie off. I backed out and walked away from it, twice. But I couldn't leave it alone. I had to know if it was really the same movie.

CONFESSIONAL concerns characters who are contemporaneously in college, which actually goes a long way to making everything worse. Each of these walking cliches is connected in some way to Amelia, a film student whose mysterious death has created a campus scandal, leaving shattered hearts and lives in its wake. The living have each received a blackmail-flavored invitation to speak about the deceased in a tiny "confessional booth" somewhere on campus, where, predictably, they find themselves locked in until they confess whatever they know about Amelia, and their classmates. I don't know why practically every single movie about young people has to be so miserable, but this is one of those. I assume that it has something to do with the fact that youth is simultaneously so desired and so ignored. People in their teens and early 20s are so sexually coveted, yet so easily dismissed as individuals, that we wind up with all this media that panders to them relentlessly (or at least, panders to the legions of ticket-buying perverts who enjoy watching them prance around), without almost any consideration of how they actually think and act, and look. Movies like FAT GIRL and  WELCOME TO THE DOLL HOUSE may be accused of their own form of pandering, a venal form of voyeuristic schadenfreude, but at least they reflect something of the awkwardness, isolation, and incompleteness of adolescence; something more than the dissociated, pornographic fantasies of adults who have long since forgotten what it was like to be powerless and ignored, or desired by people who don't even like you.

Not that CONFESSIONAL is supposed to be a work of grim realism, but it is most definitely rooted in a fantasy about college life that makes its contrived, message-y plot a lot harder to take. With almost the sole exception of "the nerdy one", every single character looks like a Bratz doll, oozing an exaggerated indecency that belies the movie's pretentious insistence on addressing the sex & gender Issues of the Day. What you get is a really good example of what happens when millennial characters are modeled, not on any actual millennials, but on other forms of marketing that are aimed at millennials, which are themselves just based on other preexisting youth-targeted commercials, et al ad nauseam. Even setting aside the deliriously slutty wardrobe choices, makeup appears to have been laid on with a trowel, coating each actor in a thick creamy layer of spackle that only makes any scars, pits, or other evidence of individuality look utterly bizarre. Accordingly, everybody preens, pouts, and generally behaves as if they're about to take off their clothes, which might be a huge relief given the profusion of chafing, cheapo mesh and straps they're laboring under.

So, ok, not every movie can have a great costume department, but the dialog here is a perfect match for the disastrous aesthetic decisions. Actually, this is the real reason I almost walked out on CONFESSIONAL. If I may ramble briefly, without substantiating any of my broad-ranging claims: Sometime in the late 90s/early 00s, horror cinema seemed to suffer a degenerative slide away from genuine thrills and chills, and into a version of the genre that is best characterized as the Slutty Halloween Costume approach. Any sense of existential dread, revulsion, or bodily vulnerability was widely replaced by a cutesy, Hot Topic-y preference for fast fashion and sex appeal, in which bloodshed more facilitated an informal wet teeshirt contest than any real fear induction. Horror's new mall goth look came with an equally shallow, boring verbal affectation: a sullen, sleazy, tooth-sucking sarcasm, that ushered in a new era in which, instead of making fun of the scummy coked-out dialog in porno movies, we now expect everybody to just talk like that, because it's hot. There's probably a line to be drawn between this unfortunate development, and the boneheaded real-world trend of identifying "sarcasm" as an important personal selling point on dating sites, but I won't try to prove that here. For now, I will just say that as soon as I heard the CONFESSIONAL characters start to speak, with their sneering, insinuating tones, with the vocal fry, with the head wagging, the jutting jaws, the smoldering gazes, the juvenile dragging-out of horny grownup words like de-bauch-er-y...I almost lost my nerve. Listening to these little creeps hissing and spitting for 84 minutes is a lot like being hit on by some barfly who continues to bludgeon you with his hot breath and corny lines without ever noticing that you've thrown up into your pint.

Uh, anyway. So what actually happens in the movie. Why would anyone ever allow someone to record video of them revealing the ugliest, most embarrassing parts of themselves? Especially a kid, for whom popularity and reputation are often a matter of life or death--literally and specifically, in the case of this story. The flimsy reason is that the late filmmaker, Amelia, was the most awesomest girl ever. Everybody loved her, because she was so sweet, and so smart, and so cool, and so nice, and so deep, and so original, and so talented, and so sexy, and just like, the bestest most perfectest girl in the whole wide world. N.B. "The greatest of all time" is, perhaps counter-intuitively, a really bad quality that makes for really shitty, boring characters. For better or worse, Amelia is rarely on screen (and when she is, she's no Laura Palmer, frankly), so it's up to the viewer to just sort of imagine a type of person who could make you act against your best interests on account of you just like them so much. After all, so many of the characters were obsessed with her in some way, that it's like they're here to help you clap your hands and believe in this seductive, compelling part of the movie, that just isn't actually there on the screen. The anonymous antihero behind the confessional booth scheme slowly extracts from each character the selfish, destructive behavior that in some way contributed to the tragic loss of the most amazing person of all time--and part of the result is, if not a very interesting excuse for Amelia's death, then a story so wacky that I really wish they had centered the movie on it, instead of on the tawdry soap opera we're locked into. Even if that imaginary movie had been really bad, and it probably would have been, at it would at least have been entertaining.

Part of what leads up to the death of Amelia is the existence of a secret school fight club, led by a stereotypically sleazy gender studies major, named Major, who is out to prove men's inherent superiority. The club is called CFB, or Cock Fights Back, which is somehow a garbled pun relating to cock fights, and Trump's famous line of "locker room talk": "grab'em by the pussy" > "pussy grabs back" > "cock fights back". CFB is different from your ordinary fight club in that the fights are always between girls and boys, and the boys are always blindfolded, in order to prove that a fully-abled female is no match for even a handicapped male. To complicate things, a new designer amphetamine is gaining popularity on campus, called "odds-on", meaning that it makes you the odds-on favorite in your CFB fight. As awkward as that is, it also seems that men are never the guaranteed winners of these fights, which makes you wonder why Major insists on continuing to host them. As much as I would have preferred to watch a stupid movie about this stupid idea, I'm stuck instead with a movie in which Major is such an aggressive MRA because he's secretly gay, and he thinks that hating women is a great way to hide that...as if that isn't what we all openly suspect about aggro MRAs. Secret gayness is a big part of this movie, involving multiple characters, although it amounts to very little other than the perpetuation of some stale, harmful cliches about how unfulfilled homosexual urges lead to suicide, sexual abuse, and murder. CONFESSIONAL is just as reliant on this grim vision of gay life, as it is on its weirdly obtuse discussion of drug addiction, for the suffocating sense of self-importance that it uses to try to elevate itself above its porn-y trappings. None of the movie's hot button issues are given any real thought, but are only dragged through the mud to create the illusion that there's a point to all this, thus relieving the film of any sense of innocence that could have made its condescending sleaziness forgivable.

Admittedly, I can't really remember all the details of the film's tortured intrigue anymore, even though I basically just saw it. A lot of its meandering revelations just left me thinking, "Why did I need to know that? Why should I care?" I do know that about half way through this ordeal, I became really anxious about whether it would turn out that CONFESSIONAL did NOT have exactly the same plot as 30 MILES FROM NOWHERE after all, and I put myself through all this for nothing. But no, I was right to begin with. The wonderful Amelia's ethically dubious film project has been picked up by the unhinged lesbian character who loved her so much she wanted to become her, and killing Amelia and usurping her confessional project was apparently the best way of doing that. I guess exposing all the dark, violent secrets of all these tangentially involved characters was just an added bonus, or whatever. Ultimately, this ugly, ignorant PSA about something-or-other only deals itself further damage by relying so heavily on the potential of its clumsy twist to blow your mind, which it does not at all.

So that was it, that's how I burned a whole afternoon allowing my mind to implode-not-explode under the ponderous force of TWO (2) movies about exactly the same exhausted cliche that is still being peddled by certain pretentious assholes as fresh and exciting, and beyond the capacity of the audience to anticipate. There's probably a whole slew of other movies that employ this overly familiar "surprise", but I don't have it in me to dig them out of my long-suffering brain. Feel free to contribute in the comments. For now, I must prepare myself for the ordeal of Blogtober, during which I will *hopefully* choose my screening selections and words more thoughtfully than I have in previous years, when this blog was motivated by just as much abject misanthropy as these movies, which do nothing but willfully insult the audience's intelligence. Maybe today's detour into degradation will help me go forth toward more additive experiences, having purged several lungfuls of meaningless venom from my system, and this season will bring with it more interesting, provocative posts than the last. Or maybe not! In any case, I promise to keep trying my hardest to make it funny.

PS I actually love both FAT GIRL and WELCOME TO THE DOLLHOUSE. I’m “just saying”. 

PLEASE answer:((( I cannot stop thinking about my past (aka my childhood/teen years) and how god awful ugly i was. my entire aesthetic was just plain disgusting!! my room was terrible, my clothes looked weird...i cant even look at any pictures from those years. and honestly nowadays i am not much better...but at least i'm a little less cringe. have u ever felt this? any advice?? HOW do i let goooo :( i know i'm overthinking but its ruining me.

hey dude, i know it's hard to be rational when you're anxious but you were literally........ a child. you're never going to find peace if you insist on holding yourself to the standards imposed on us as adults, because even grown people can't be everything the world wants them to be. it's supposed to be an impossible goal to meet, we're supposed to spend our lives chasing a made up fantasy and berating who we are. that's the way it's set up. it's also important to remember that your idea of beauty/what is acceptable has been controlled for so long, and has been manipulated to be very sexualised and performative, which are concepts that no child should be forced to embody. you genuinely didn't have to be anything but what you were. the price you pay for your existence isn't total and complete coolness at all times. look, it is completely natural to roll your eyes at your former self because that means you're growing as a person, and you HAD to be everything that you were in order to learn. you can know this logically and still process some embarrassment, of course. but always come back to the fact of the matter: you did nothing wrong. honestly, some memories make me want to punch my 12 year old self in the fuckin face. but if she was standing in front of me, i'd hold her hand. your kid self was committing no crimes by merely existing, seriously. teenagers are hard wired to go through phases, to explore all their options, to do and say the wrong thing because they're testing the waters and figuring out boundaries. it's such a crucial stage of development, and yeah you can now look back and be like, what the fuck? but the things that made you happy at the time were simply cruches that helped you navigate your formative years. you didn't have the perspective to engage with anything else, and that's ok. if you didn't have those experiences, you'd be way worse off as an adult. your embarrassing moments (in this context) are not some damning summarisation of your character, they're not anything to feel eternally guilty over. they're inevitable for everyone, you know? all that's left is self forgiveness. even if you have to practice it over and over again.

if you're becoming increasingly fixated on this and you can't stop thinking about it, it may be a mental compulsion and a symptom of a deeper issue that can be greatly elevated through talking to a professional. constant self loathing is extremely hard to deal with, and maybe there's a voice telling you you don't deserve help, but it's the same voice that got you to this point in the first place. you can't trust it. i know the idea is very overwhelming, so im just asking you to consider it. whether you talk to your doctor, a hotline, a support group or even just a family member to begin with - it will make a difference if you give it the chance to. but you have to tell your brain to fuck off and take that initial first step. even researching self help tactics and making the choice to implement them into your day to day life is a good start. then you can figure out what triggers you, and how to self soothe. but having somewhere to speak your mind, uncovering the root cause of your self loathing, and learning how to confront/cope with it in a healthy way is not at far-fetched at it seems. it's genuinely hard to accept that you are going to be you for the rest of your life, and it's even harder to accept that that is not a bad thing, but it's truly not. in 5 years you'll probably look back and shake your head at what you're doing now, and that is something to look forward to, even if it doesn't seem that way. i hope you're okay and that you're able to learn how to cut yourself some slack, even if it takes time. i fully believe in you, n i think if you knew that everyone in the world feels like this to some extent, you'd understand how natural it is. let me know if you need a friend or if you want to talk, i'll be here. take it easy.

Well I guess I might as well say it here so I can say it somewhere. If you are interested in the current status of people’s relationship and want some deep T, feel free to read here, otherwise here are the warnings: #tmi #mental illness mention

Basically I’m technically single (I’m poly and am mingling in other relations but they are so fresh and new especially compared to how long we’ve been together). I’m not gonna go into the main specifics, the best way to put it is that me and my (currently ex) boyfriend are in I guess what we are calling a “relationship hiatus.” It’s weird and we are both currently going through our phases of heartbreak, but as crazy as it sounds, it is actually needed for both of us. Yes it is scary and yes we are both hella uncertain because yes this could be the actual end, but I guess the best way to explain is...there is such a thing as being attached to your partner to the point of subconscious codependency. And I can’t even believe this myself to be honest, but it’s actually not me. Here’s the thing, I know I can come across as a fucking mess due to my personal post. And yeah you are absolutely right, but I’m also able to pick myself up immediately if someone else needs my attention, usually my family, friends, responsibilities (this one the most haha) and yes of course, my boyfriend. So yes this year 2016 was fucking terrible for so many personal reasons, but in a sense, I also moved forward. I directed a play, I at least made a small name for my self on my campus and, I found and am holding a great job, I’m starting to put myself a bit more out there again thanks to the support of my friends especially. But alas that came with bad things too, such as increased depression due to everything, including from being in the closet about my true gender for so long, and I failed a lot of my classes, and my relationship with my mother is now strained, still good but strained. I guess you can say yes there were bad things, but all the same there were great things and I was finally able to grow a bit last year. He, on the other hand, did do his own growing yes. He got a job almost immediately after graduating, not in his field but still a well paying job that he did get promoted in. But I did notice eventually, albeit a bit too late, that yes, he was visiting me a lot. And I was not asking for it. I can recall a few instances where yes, I did ask if he could stay a bit longer, sometimes a bit much because I’m a stubborn asshole. But other than that I did pick up that this was all him, and while I didn’t think much of it at first, I realized now how it was slowing him down. You see, he is really talented and has a lot of potential (especially as a writer dear lordy), but he also gets...comfortable I guess. And don’t get me wrong there is absolutely nothing wrong with being comfortable with where you are at in life if that makes you content. But for him he is like me, he has a lot of big plans and dreams for his life, but he gets really anxious easily and sorta resorts back into his bubble of complete isolation, clinging to his family and, now that I really think about it, me. *also this is the part where I talk about trans stuff, so if that makes you uncomfy I suggest you stop reading here* Here is the thing. I am about to go through a really big change (my transition) where I’m about to be needy of other people. Because of that I will not be there for him, he would have to be there for me, at one point almost completely. And frankly that terrifies him in many ways, and yes I am going to say, as a trans guy, he has every right to be. Listen, what I’m about to go through is not easy for anyone, that is just the bottom line. Not me, not my family, not my friends, and most definitely not my partner. I am a bottle of emotions through this whole thing, and let’s face it its only going to get harder from here. Transition is beautiful but just like everything great it could be a double edged sword, depending on how emotionally strong you are. I can say in all honestly that I will not be, especially after talking to a lot of my irl trans friends. There will be highs, but also very low lows. Anyway because of that, it does stand, that if he is not ready for it, then this will blow up negatively one way or another. He has to be okay with himself and where he is at in order to be okay with himself, because yes otherwise he will implode, he has his own issues to deal with as well. And unfortunately it will affect me, everyone he cares about, etc.  Sadly here is where the ugly part comes in. He did admit to hiding that he was feeling this way for about almost a year now, and it doesn’t help that I have asked him many times, “how do you feel about this” knowing full well that if he were to leave me then, I would respect his decision. There is also the fact that (and lemme just say this is not me defending myself, but we have already spoken and agreed about this) this was all his own personal doing. I am a person that when I am dating someone, I never try to outdo them. I used to do that, and it lead me to really dark places in my past relations. When I try to succeed and better myself, I do it for me and I always have to make sure there are absolutely no outside influences before I am comfortable with doing something for myself (bpd makes me paranoid of that shit). Just as I try to grow, I do encourage my partner to do the same if they feel stuck. And it was evident to me that he did, so yes I did everything I could to help him, not carry him of course I am not his mother (and never will be), but what I like to do is push people towards the right direction and let them take the next steps themselves. Of course, that doesn’t work for everyone *dadum pssh* and it especially did not work for him because unfortunately, every time we did anything together or where in the general public, suddenly he would retreat back into his bubble, meanwhile I was the one being social, moving around, etc. etc. So due to that, I have a right to be upset at him, and I like he, need space away from him for a while. And it’s scary for both of us because we are about to lose our biggest support, especially for both our mental illnesses, for who knows how long, because we both need to grow. Its not even the relationship we are afraid of losing at this point, it’s the friendship. Because yes, he is at the end of the day my best friend. We know its not gone, but it is something we have become, well for him became dependent, for me comfortable-ish??? Idk I may be an emotional mess but my feelings towards other people always get more complicated that that tiny rosetta stone ring, aka I can never figure them out. Plus it is scary to me that since this happened, I have only broke down a lot less than I thought I would. I’ve actually been...okay mainly because a lot of people talked to me after they realized this was why I wasn’t going (even tho I’m going again now just for one day). I just know I love him, and he does love me too. But we need this.  So I guess tl;dr my old bae and I are taking a relationship hiatus because he needs to figure himself out plus he is not emotionally ready for my transition (has nothing to do with my body or anything don’t even try that), and a friendship break because I’m mad that he lied. Also please if you did read this no asks like “he is garbage” or “he doesn’t deserve you.” He is great, he (and I guess I in a way) fucked up. We are human. It happens. I will accept words of kindness of course. Oh and pictures of Genji’s ass, since that seems to be what people on FB know will make me feel better.