trying to actually sit down and write the sequel to despite the loss that set me free bc it's been over a year of it marinating in my brain and i want it to go ruin someone else's life instead and y'all

y ' a l l

writing is fkin HARD

Series 3 Episodes 8 & 9: Human Nature & The Family of Blood

"A girl in every fireplace" OOO HE DOES HAVE THAT referencing my favourite episode so far I see you Doctor Who :3. ALSO just found the actor who plays Baines in these episodes plays Viktor in Arcane, I woulda never made that link dang, there's one for the IMDB game.

SO Human Nature & The Family of Blood, a two parter that often tops people’s lists as their favourite Doctor Who episode. But how do I feel about it?

Wow yeah it’s amazing. Let’s start with the setting. 1900s UK. I’ve been really getting on at historicals for reusing similar settings, and then using those settings to glorify British history. The good news is, Doctor Who in this episode uses this setting not to glorify the history, but to expose the flaws of the time. There is no attempt to make out that drafting children into WWI was justified, there is no attempt to push racism under the rug. This is a story that doesn’t hide the history relating to it, and that is of no. 1 importance when writing a historical.

The villains are also stellar. The Family of Blood hiding as fellow humans are so chilling. In particular I have to shout out Harry Lloyd for his performance as Baines. His voice becomes deranged and he has this jittery-ness to him that sort’ve makes him seem zombified by the family, it’s such a well done piece of acting.

And my god this episode makes you care for John Smith. It took me a while to come around to this episode, as a child I really hated it. My favourite character and role model was gone for the entire two-parter whahwhawhaa. Then on my first rewatch, I still found the setting a bit dull and I struggle to empathise with John’s existential nightmare but I appreciated the family of blood more. And now this watch marks the first time I’ve cried at Doctor Who. John Smith’s breakdown near the end of the two-parter, and Matron’s insistence that even though she had ALL THIS HOPE for them that he should flick open the watch and save us all. Some might say it’s a bit on the nose but the flash-forwards to what their life could’ve been just GETS ME. 

My only gripe is that whilst this episode addresses the fact that The Doctor dropped Martha off in the early 1900s and she had to deal with all the fking shit that comes with that, there’s no fallout or mention of this when The Doctor is back. I suppose it’s in character for Martha to continue pining for him but GOD this is probably the episode where she gets the worst hand drawn. And she and The Doc just, don’t talk about it? A simple “thanks for looking after me” just feels so short-sighted from The Doctor, although with how he treats Martha in this entire series, it’s very much in character.

TL:DR/Overview: Near perfection. A historical that FULLY addresses the issues of the time, whilst using the lack of our Doctor to make the villains even more terrifying. John Smith’s characterisation is amazing, and the more I watch this episode the more I empathise with his crisis at the climax of the story. The picture this paints of The Doctor is one of an all-powerful, benevolent god. But one that doesn’t give second chances, and should be feared. Do I even need to say ofc it's going in S tier slfdjkhg.

Blink is next on the table. The most critically acclaimed episode of the show ever. I can't wait :3

Hey C,

It’s been a while since we last talked or met, hasn’t it? This letter would probably caught you off guard because you know we’re both living our best lives away from one another, I should have no reasons to find you. Well, that’s how I hope things to be. But it’s been hard. I’ve been struggling a lot w all these emotions that I don’t understand. Over the years, as we drifted apart, I learnt more about how to grasp better control and understanding of my emotions. Rather than just bawling my eyes out w a bottle of Whiskey next to me, I’ve learnt that you know, emotions are here to protect and teach me stuff. They’re here to remind me my inner wants and needs. But lately, I don’t understand all these negative emotions in me at all. And it’s draining. It’s tiring. Almost crippling. I don’t recall the last time I struggled this bad with sleep for days. And honestly this storm is lasting way longer than I want it to be. I want to get out of it, I need to get out of it. And I don’t know any other better way to get out of it than to talk to the source of it all

“I should be happy for you”

I constantly tried to correct my emotions ever since I found out you were attached. I didn’t understand why I was so hurt. Was it because it seemed like you had been dating for a while and you didn’t want to let me know when we met? I thought we were close, I thought our friendship is as precious to you as it is to me. I shared whenever something significant happens in my life to you, I thought you would want to do the same. And then suddenly I realised, how is it fair of me to ask you to recipocrate just because I stayed vulnerable w you. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to isn’t it? Maybe this friendship doesn’t mean as much to you as it is to me isn’t it? You’re just an amazingly kind person, who chose to help someone who couldn’t help herself. Maybe that was just it, the dynamics of our friendship. But honestly it hurts so much to suddenly devalue a friendship that has always been so precious to me, even though looking back I probs wasn’t a good friend to you. You would probably tell me off and ask me to stop w my “self-entitled incompetencies”. But my dear friend, I don’t see other people’s incompetencies as clear as my own

“Griefing is a process that takes time”

If those emotions just stopped there, they would be completely understandable. I mean, feeling hurt from elevated expectations of a friendship, simple and straightforward isn��t it? But no. The feelings are worst. I cooked up all these unimaginable stories in my head. “It’s impossible he got attached” “Maybe he was sad we lost touch and he needed someone so he got attached w someone he doesn’t love” “Who is she, did she bait him into getting attached w her?” Crazy? I know those thoughts sound crazy. Because I sound fking crazy to myself. I don’t even want to have all those thoughts but I can’t help it. It’s almost like a self-defense mechanism, like my brain is trying to cope with the fact that you’re attached by putting itself in a state of denial. But why? I don’t understand. What is it trying to cope from? It’s not like I still love you romantically right? I am in a stable and happy r/s of my own, you’re in a happy r/s of your own. So why? When I told my best friend about it, she told me it sounded like I was griefing. I was almost playing a role of an ex-gf unable to accept that my ex has moved on. My ego took a big hit that’s why I cook up all those stories in my head. Maybe I’m too used to having you around whenever I’m alone, and now that if I end up being alone again I know I won’t be able to rely on you. Maybe I’m only griefing this much because of my own selfish desires, to always have you at my beck and call. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was my inner want, I mean I know for a fact I’m a pretty toxic person. And I guess I’m receiving karma for my own toxic behaviours, enduring sleepless nights from all these overthinking and delusions

“The Halo Effect”

So what do I want out of saying all these? Honestly I don’t know. It took me a few days to finish writing this letter just because 1) the thoughts in my head are too messy to get sorted out in coherent sentences and 2) it hurts to write each paragraph because verbalising my thoughts feel like I’m finally facing this issue upfront. Initially I started this letter thinking that maybe I want you back. The deluded side of me was holding on to this slight hope that there was even a split moment when you loved me. But as time pass, as my thoughts clear up while writing out a letter that I won’t sent out, I realised I don’t really want you back anymore. Realising that maybe the only reason why I held on to the friendship like it was my last straw of saving was because I conditioned my brain to think of it that way. I met you when I was at my lowest, you were my closest source of support. You helped me through a time when I couldn’t help myself. Can you imagine the kind of impression you have in my memory? Exaggerated but, it’s almost like you had a halo above your head. And this cognitive bias defo made you look perfect, even tho we all know the perfect person doesn’t exist. Maybe I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did. After all, all these things that I know of you are probs very polished up because of how perfect I used to think you are. And accepting the fact that maybe I don’t know you that well, maybe you aren’t as perfect as I remember you to be, will help me to move on

“Final Words”

Allow me to end off this letter, with nothing but blessings for someone who was once precious to me. While I don’t know if we would be friends again, if we can be friends again, I still hope nothing but the best for you. She seems adorable, funny, gorgeous and sweet. And the two of you seem like y’all are made for each other, given how similar the two of you appears w your overlapping interests and personality traits. So with nothing but the best wishes in my heart - May the two of you always be happy w each other’s company. May the two of you always be one another’s safe space. And may the two of you last the longest, creating nothing but the sweetest memories over time. I hope she’s your first, and also your last. Always stay happy, my once loved one

*tsks*

The thought comes randomly and frequently but I realized I never actually shared it.

It's a pity in some ways that I was right. Had my ex waited just a short while- had just a little more patience and was willing to work with me in the end- he would have rejoiced with me that one of our major concerns was taken care of.

I no longer have major major stomach issues. A few, yes, but I know how to manage them now. And the main cause of our troubles when I got stressed or we went on trips has been taken care of-- being force fed fiber throughout my life was apparently a big no-no and just stopping that/starting regular probiotic intake has all but cured those woes.

*shakes head*

It's such a pity, because I know that was a major stress for him- not getting to enjoy camping because I was struggling with my stomach.

He was right about other things and I was right about more too... But it's such a shame that he was so impatient instead of buckling down with me... In one way at least. The rest, good fking riddance.

He seemed so sad when I told him about having the heart monitor the very last time I saw him... And I have been thinking of that. Perhaps he did care more than I can see being so blinded by rage... And yet. He still cheated on me. Still lied and lied and lied to me. If he says it's because he cared about me... I'd sooner bite off his nose than give him a pass (and I really don't want to bite off his nose).

You don't lie to the ones you love. You just don't. You don't have to tell them everything exactly when asked, especially if you don't have the words, but in your own time you share the whole truth.

And there are times that your loved ones will test you. Especially unintentionally. Especially when times are hard. You might just see the worst of them... But if you can choose patience--- especially when it's not their fault and you know they're actually trying--- in the end you will all be rewarded.. stronger, closer, better.

Good riddance Liar McD. I'll remember you fondly as having little to offer but discarded items, dick, and disappointment.

08.22.2017 - Scared of Boys

The other day someone from the frisbee pickup found me in the 24 hour bookstore. Now there’s a significance in this encounter because this guy had been trying to get me to meet up with him for the past 2 weeks. He’s been an American resident in Taiwan for a couple years teaching English and tutoring little kids and he’s nowhere close to Asian. We got along well at pickup and were on the same team. He was pretty good, but I was a little more focused on the fact that it was extremely hot and I was wrinkling dry in the heat.

When he chatted me on Facebook, I reacted the same way I did with any guy that tried to hit me up at school: With shyness and hesitancy. In addition: I was completely turned off and shut down. Now this isn’t one of those “I’m too good for anyone” attitudes, but rather an “oh my god get me out of this situation I can’t talk to boys breathe breathe remember to fking breathe I want to die leave me alone I feel like crying” kind of reaction. He was giving off the vibes I craved just like any one of the other guys I've met in the past year, but I just felt awkward and I wanted to remove myself from existence out of fear and minor irrational disgust. I don’t know why I was disgusted; he was a perfectly decent dude who was just trying his nice guy moves on me. But I just didn’t want it and it made me squirm.

And these feelings of anxiety carried on through the week until it built up to the day pickup was held again. For seven days, every time I opened messenger, his unread message would sit there making me guilty, but not enough to open and respond to it. That morning, I woke up knowing that I didn’t want to go. Primarily because of my rocky relationship with frisbee, but also out of complete fear of seeing this perfectly nice guy and possibly having to awkwardly explain why I didn't respond to him. I didn’t want to see him. So I didn’t go and spent the morning crying to my dad about my frisbee situation instead, avoiding the topic of that guy.

Later, my dad treats me to a relaxing day and ends it by taking me to this fantastic book store open 24/7. And so there I am, in a quiet paradise trying really hard to decide which Wonder Woman comic I should start with when the guy approaches me.

“Hey, funny that I see you here.”

Muscles tense. Hands begin to shake. An embarrassed blush comes quickly following the reminder in my head that I didn’t go to pickup. And I don’t make eye contact.

He hovers around me after that encounter, coming back after a couple minutes trying to make conversation with me about graphic novels and why I didn’t go to pickup. I pull the lame excuse that I just overslept. If I wanted to vaporize when he first approached me, I wanted to combust the moment I realized he was hovering. In fact, he chose to stand across the aisle pretending to look at the books on those shelves; a safe distance but giving me the impression that he wants to be there when I decided what book I wanted.

He actually caught me returning to my respective comic bookshelf after I tried to leave wanting to escape but guilt tripping myself to go back because I really wanted a Wonder Woman book. Awkward. Finally I select my book, relieved and annoyed at myself for taking so long and staying in that awkward situation because I couldn’t freaking choose which one I wanted quick enough. Then I bolted when he wasn’t looking. Ran the other way, and circumvented around him in desperate search of my dad. And as soon as I do, I push him to the checkout counter, nervously peeking over my shoulder in fear this guy would find me. We leave safely, not that there was any danger in the situation at all. It was just me being a freak.

I had half a mind to message him later and apologize for leaving so abruptly, planning to use the excuse that my dad had some place to be. But I didn’t. Thus, continuing my trend of ghosting guys. The walk home was silent. My anxiety was on full blast and I just wanted to die, because this isn’t something I would tell to my father. This is something I don’t think I would ever tell anyone except for that one friend of mine. And so I did.

I was frustrated when I messaged my friend, rhetorically asking him why the crap was I so frightened to talk to guys. Why every guy I met who I could have started a thing with ended up being ghosted and ignored by me. I keep telling myself I’m just not interested, but they weren’t all that bad. For some, if circumstances were different, things could have flourished. I also tried to convince myself that maybe I was still attached to him and was mentally still saving myself for him (which probably was so in the beginning of the school year) but now I’m not so sure. Heck, I’m not even sure if I can face him now either. And we made plans for Saturday. What plans, I can’t entirely be sure because I’m half convinced he’ll chicken out again. And if not him, what if I do?

So I’m ranting to my friend, and halfway through, I realized that I’m just frightened. Because the feelings that come to me when approached by these guys are feelings of heartbreak and pain. I’ve associated the intense searing pain of heartbreak to every guy out there who shows remote interest in me. It drowns me at once, and I freak out. I think about the inescapable pain I’ve felt through this past year, the nights I spent crying, the desperation calls, fear, and irrationality that drove me mad, and especially the drunk calls. I think about how difficult I am to deal with, how needy, how annoying, how unattractive I am as a person and then the rejection responses follow immediately.

“Do you still love me?" "No.” “You became an emotional wreck.” “Do you want to meet up?” “I don’t think that’s a good idea." "We haven't been together in months." I'm not looking to get together.”

I meet and talk to eager guys and suddenly that’s the future of our relationship that never started. And I just want to flee the scene at that point. No more of that pain, no more no more no more I want it to all end. And there are goods in this I guess, I’m being less reckless and more careful, but the bads are that I’m using bad defense mechanisms. I’m convincing myself I’m okay, subconsciously aware of these rushing feelings of anguish and total fear and denying them. They’re not there, I’m completely fine, what are you talking about? Oh, excuse me as I run away screaming "I DON'T KNOW WHY”. BUT I do know why. Why can’t I accept it? Probably because I don’t know how to fix it.

But that’s not the worst consequence coming out of that relationship with him. I was at my greatest with him. He let me be open, let me be weird, let me say what I wanted and made me feel okay about it. Even when I met him, I was pretty forward with him, made first moves, and was outrageously unapologetically me. But as the person I thought loved me entirely at my highest and my lowest, he broke my heart and subsequently broke me too. Because there is no worse feeling than having the person you loved the most who thought loved you the same tell you they thought you were a wreck. That when you were at your highest, they’d knock you down, causing you to question everything about yourself, everything you loved about yourself. You really lose yourself, your identity, your foundation that way.

I will say, breaking up was the better option at the time given his loss of feelings and my mania, but the relationship couldn't have ended at a worse time; maybe when I wasn’t struggling with academics and finding an identity and conforming to the new environment. He left me completely faceless in this unknown place. I don’t want to blame him; I was the one who broke up with him. But he had already mentally broken up with me. And his side of the breakup was easier than mine. Whereas I was in a new place and not adjusting well, no family, no established friends, dealing with gross dudes and horrible test grades and just the horrors of first year college (they are legitimate and I will fight anyone who says anything against how hard it can be), he was in the safety of his home, his friends, the same school, and everything that couldn’t rock his foundation.

Now I’m stuck with the mental consequences. I’m shy, too quiet. I can’t speak for myself anymore, I let people step all over me. I’m hesitant, I’m insecure. I can’t even order an omelette at the omelette station. I can’t talk to guys, I can’t make eye contact. I stay in my room all day and I have a lethal eating habit of starving myself for consecutive days and feast on one day. I run myself to the ground with work and school, I cry when I feel like there’s not enough time, and I will on and off call my friend and tell him that I’m over this guy and that I’m not and lying to myself. I’m aware of all of this, but I can’t seem to get a grasp of my own body and actions and I keep falling deeper and deeper.

In contrast, he’s fine. He’s better than ever. Captain. An amazing player. So much more social, kind to most, talking to so many people, working, playing with kitties. I’m dying here, knowing all of this. Knowing that he’s becoming only more and more attractive to me, becoming more and more what I hoped he’d become. The only catch is that I wanted to be present with him through all this and obviously I was not. And I feel…unsatisfied with it. Maybe I wasn’t meant to see him in his prime despite how bad I wanted to. Maybe I was holding him back. Maybe my leaving was the reason why he changed. Life is holding him just out of my reach and is going to force me to watch him meet some other lucky girl who gets to see this new and improved him. It’s like one of those concepts on TV where the guy cheats on the girl and goes on to marry that girl instead because he changed and the other girl got the better part of the deal.

And now I’m just rambling at this point. I was supposed to stop at the part where I analyze my fear for guys but I continued and my thought process brought me here, to the world of what ifs filled with pity and bring-me-downers. So I guess I’ll end with this:

I’m scared to see him. For once I’m chicken. I don’t know what to expect from me or him and my anxiety is going to eat me counting down to when/if we do meet, and starting my second year of college. What will be different? What will be the same?

My god, I’m unbelievably petrified.