after years on this website i no longer feel capable of safely expressing thoughts or opinions even in my day to day life. the general capacity for coping with difference or light friction on here is completely diminished. bunch of weird moral sadists. it will not save you

i thought about writing thad into hummingbird heartbeat, but i ran into this interesting roadblock wherein i had realized that by writing cartoon bart (or, as i have begun calling him in my head, Discount Barr Torr) i had already written thad. hh bart is a lying used-car salesman struggling with his own authenticity. while i dont think comics bart and cartoon bart are, like, inherently different people (in the same way thad and bart arent either), they differ pretty intensely on this issue of authenticity. the whole point of comics bart is that he is who he is, and who he is is rebellious and obnoxious and unpalatable to people, but hes never going to change, not for anyone. cartoon bart shows up to lie and tell lies and manipulate jaime and then to generally just kind of be present at the end of the season. also hes gay i guess

but that's thad's whole... thing, at least in my head. hes definitely more antagonistic about it; hes putting more of a persona than hh bart is. hh bart is playing a character, sure, but ultimately, that character is him. the persona is the more authentic expression of self than his bitter flat affect is. whereas if i were to conceive of thad in a post-redemption situation (or any situation where hes trying to integrate into society) i really vividly imagine that he'd be like omg i love your outfit right up until the persons back is turned and then hes like GAG i hate that motherfucker. so he's a little more of a liar, a little more childish, a little more angry about it all. he would crave that positive validation a lot more than hh bart, who absolutely hates it when people believe him when he lies, and hates it when people compliment for being a well behaved nice young man. he knows its all an elaborate lie and it makes him feel slimy and gross. in his heart he yearns for that freedom of expression that comics bart has, not that he quite realizes it.

but to write thad majorly into that story would be to, inevitably, retread a lot of the ground ive already covered with bart. there is something compelling, somewhere in there, about a story where thad thrives in the deceit in a way bart never did. but i kept coming back to the question of how I would even begin here.

i conceived of a plotline where, during an interdimensional, world-bending crisis (i cant elaborate for spoilers purposes, let me have this), bart is scouring the speedforce for traces of his original timeline. this shouldnt be possible, but weirder things have happened, and bart is a grieving young adult. in his emotion-fueled search, he touches something familiar--

2060. a boy with a burn scar crawling up his neck blinks baleful eyes at bart. he stands, framed by ash sky and dead land, holding a gun.

a world in which bart allen never went to the past, never saved jaime from being on-mode, and never saved the world. instead, bart is nineteen, having escaped from blue beetle's prison camp with blood on his hands and burns on his neck, and spends his days eeking out a future for humanity by freeing prisoners, stowing them away to free parts of the planet, and killing bugs. he's-- well, he's a superhero. he's... the fastest man alive. he's the flash.

except he's inexorably jaded, angrier than bart ever was, and crawling his way out of a hole that leads to him, dead at twenty, a skin-and-bones corpse. and bart-- the main timelines bart-- does what superheroes are wont to do, and offers him an out. he gives him his hand and says, "i can feed you. every day."

alt-timeline bart considers this. he knows he is dying. for him, "superheroing" (if it can be called that) isn't for any "world saving". he will never be able to scavenge enough food to adequately survive with his advanced metabolism, and this is a truth that has lived over his (both of their) head(s) since infancy. but with most human settlements gone-- killed when wally was-- and outside of the camp-- which was at least a meal a day-- he is left to rot and starve. he doesnt want to do nothing-- he doesnt want the world to rot the same way he is. he is the dying legacy of a dead world, and he knows this, but he wants to give that world a fighting fucking chance.

but he also... doesn't want to die. the selfish urge for survival that trumps all else lives inside of him, overactive now after years of self-imposed suicide. the other-him is probably lying, but if he is, what difference is it, if he dies this way, and not by starving? and if the impossible is true? if he can feed him?

so alt-bart takes his hand. and main-bart drags him through the speedforce, past the rushing insanity, and into his world. which is falling apart, of course. but bart leads him to a supermarket, empty-- the world is ending-- and ripe for the pillaging. and alt-bart realizes the breadth of where he's been brought.

anyway, the idea was that alt-bart was gonna call himself thad and bleach his hair, after the crisis was over and all that was left is for him to integrate into society. it was a fun subversion because thad would be staking his entire identity as being different from bart, despite the fact that they are the same person who came of age in entirely different circumstances. there would be no persona, no happy-go-lucky exterior, instead a flat affect and meanness and irritability.

and then i was like. you know, outside of how those personalities manifest, main timeline bart is more like thad, in his deceit and his avoidance of authenticity, and his antagonism. and alt-timeline bart is actually more like comics bart, in his staunch authenticity, unpalatability as a result, and the rock solid sense of identity.

and then i questioned why i chose to write hummingbird heartbeat the way i did, and if the main character is even slightly recognizable as himself, or if ive just made a weird oc, as i do every 3 days

Hello! I wanted to request for a chubby reader x Levi oneshot. I feel like there aren’t many stories that have chubby readers ): As for the storyline, I’m not sure if it falls in the angst or hurt/comfort category. It would be the reader feeling insecure about themselves because they have a harder time training than the others (them blaming it on their own weight) and seeing how everyone is much thinner than them, they start avoiding food. To not make it look suspicious, they’d go into the kitchen alone and put the food away along with the left overs. The reader would act normal with Levi and he doesn’t suspect anything at first. Later on, the reader would push themselves harder to the point where they’d train on their own whenever they had to chance so they can lose weight and improve their training. At this point, Levi starts noticing the reader looking paler than usual and the slight difference in their weight. One day during training, the reader ends up fainting from exhaustion and dehydration. They wake up on Levis’s bed with him looking over them. He asks what happened and the reader lies by saying they didn’t drink enough water. Levi calls it bs and ask if they think he’s stupid and goes on to tell them about how they noticed the reader sneaking off into the kitchen with a plate and coming out without it. He didn’t think anything of it at first, but he started putting the pieces together. They end up telling Levi the truth, the way they feel towards themself and how they don’t like the fact that they’re bigger than Levi. He comforts the reader and lets them know that they’re an idiot for thinking that way, etc. Thank you! I’m so sorry if it sounds so cheesy!

hello dear!! i dont think your idea was cheesy at all, i love it actually. these kind of issues live very close to my heart, so writing about them is always really fun for me. that being said,, this fic definitely got very dark and very real, and i would advise everyone to read the warnings before deciding to read this <33

empty

levi ackerman x gn!reader

synopsis: levi catches you skipping meals and does what he can to help

tags/warnings: eating disorder, skipping meals, hurt/comfort, but it does have a happy ending! 

word count: 2.2k 

Throbbing headaches and hollow, gnawing pains in your stomach — they’ve quickly become your new normal. You see everything through a hazy fog these days, nothing feels real and everything hurts but it’s worth it — that’s what you keep saying to yourself. You’re tired of lacking the same agility, momentum, and grace that your thinner counterparts have. 

Your weight was always something that ate away at the back of your head, but joining the scout regiment multiplied it tenfold. You were constantly working twice as hard as your fellow scouts, and it seemed like it was never enough. Everyone around you was not only ridiculously athletic, but so fucking thin. You didn’t hate your comrades for their bodies and the way they were born, but you made up for it by inflicting all of the hate onto yourself.

You wonder if anyone notices your zombie eyes or the abnormal paleness to your face — god, you hope they don’t. The last thing you want to do is have to confront your feelings and admit what you’ve been doing lately. Every night you shamefully sneak back into the kitchen and pour your plate of food into the large pot of leftovers. You pick at food here and there when your friends are watching, but behind closed doors you haven’t eaten much of anything lately. Your body is running on empty, and it’s only a matter of time before it fully catches up to you. 

You hear your last name echo from across the training fields, slowly turning around to see an angry captain sulking towards you. His face was twisted into an unpleasant grimace, his eyebrows knitted together into what almost looked like concern. 

“I’m excusing you from the remainder of training, leave,” his words were flat, but there was a subtle emotional edge. 

“Sorry, what?” you gave him a confused look — Captain Levi never excused anyone from training, not unless they were practically on their deathbed. 

“Go home, and eat a big dinner tonight, your energy has been less than adequate lately,” his face softened slightly, “I expect you to be back to normal by tomorrow. Your skills and abilities are needed here, so go get some rest and be better tomorrow, yeah?”

“But, I-,” you stammered, trying to come up with some kind of valid excuse. 

“That’s an order, cadet”. 

His words surprised you, and before you could even rack your brain for an appropriate way to respond, he was turned on his heels and walking away. You swallowed thickly, your throat dry and stuffed full with anxiety. 

Reluctantly, you followed his orders and made your way back to the Scout’s base early. You grabbed a stack of fresh clothing from your room before heading to the showers and scrubbing yourself free of all the sweat and grime from training. You were careful to avoid mirrors when you navigated bathrooms, and tonight was no exception, your eyes glued to the tiled floor. After showering, you hesitantly walked to the kitchen, preparing a plate of food and bringing it back to your room.

That food stared you in the eyes for hours, taunting you and teasing you and making intense nausea creep up your spine.  Tears were stinging the backs of your eyes and your lungs were shaking with heavy, anxiety-filled breaths. You couldn't do it, and you were overwhelmed with shame and guilt. If you couldn’t do it for Levi, you were hopeless that you’d be able to do it for anyone, never mind for yourself. 

After making countless pitiful attempts to take a bite of your untouched meal, you decided it was going back into the leftover pot — just like everything else. The other scouts should have returned and been sleeping by now anyway, you’d just silently creep down the hallway, dump the food, and creep back, no harm no foul. 

Except for that a certain short, dark-haired captain was standing at the end of the hallway — you didn't notice him, but he certainly noticed you. A boiling anger rippled up inside him as he felt an overwhelming disappointment in your actions. He’d been suspecting this kind of behavior for a while now, but watching you tip-toe down the hall and into the kitchen with an uneaten plate of food confirmed all of his suspicions. 

You could barely crawl out of bed the next morning, your ribs aching and your head pounding with a dull pain. You grasped at your tall dresser, catching your balance as you dangerously swayed back and forth for a few seconds. After regaining consciousness and stability you carefully changed into your uniform, having to stop and take breaks every few seconds because you were running out of breath. Your body felt utterly devoid of any kind of energy, and you wondered — when was the last time I actually ate something? 

It was far enough back that you couldn’t quite remember, maybe a few days at this point, you really weren’t sure anymore. You’d have to suck it up for training though, because the last thing you wanted was to be confronted by the captain again. 

You chugged back a full glass of water before lacing up your boots and throwing on a convincing facade. People don’t seem to notice something is wrong as long as you're smiling, laughing, and going along with what they say — it’s easy enough to fly under the radar of your fellow scouts. 

Levi’s radar is a little sharper though, and he keeps a close eye on you from the second you walk up to the training grounds. He’s disappointed in your hand to hand combat — it’s sloppy, slow, predictable. Your hands look shaky too, and maybe it's the light playing tricks on him but it looks like the color is draining from your face. 

Things are feeling deplorable on your side — you can barely stand anymore, never mind throw punches or avoid the oncoming attacks. Your vision was starting to tunnel, foggy black surrounding your periphery as you began to lose feeling in your fingertips. You tried desperately to cling onto whatever semblance of consciousness you had left, but failed miserably, your body collapsing to the hard earth beneath you. 

The soft glow of warm candles illuminated the walls around you when you finally woke up from the earlier incident. This wasn’t your room, where the hell were you? You uncomfortably shifted to the side and flinched when you saw your captain sitting in a chair in front of you. His arms were crossed and one of his legs was propped on top of the other, an icey look in his eyes.

“What happened today?” His words were very short and his tone was flooded with irritation — he didn’t even give you a chance to take in your surroundings.

“Ah- I didn’t sleep well last night,” you lied, “And maybe I haven’t been drinking enough water or something”. 

“I’m offended that you think I would fall for such a pitiful lie,” He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth, “I saw you sneak into the kitchen last night, how long have you been doing that?” 

Your eyes grew wide with anxiety, your heart abruptly dropping to the floor — you made sure to go extra late last night, why the hell was he still up?

You stayed quiet for a moment, pondering over how honest you should be with Levi right now. The two of you had always been a little closer than he was with the other scouts, but unfortunately there was no room for things like love in this world. You also assumed that maybe he never reciprocated your feelings because of your weight — but that was just more toxic fuel to the fire blossoming in your head. 

“Pretty long,” you sighed, ultimately deciding to be fully honest with him, because knowing Levi, he’d continue to see right through your lies anyway. 

“I figured,” He grumbled, uncrossing his legs and leaning back into his chair, “Why?” 

“Everyone around me is thin, I stick out. And, I’m not as agile or flexible as the other scouts either. I just thought that maybe...,” you bit down hard on your bottom lip, rolling onto your back so you wouldn’t have to look at him, “I thought my weight bothered you too, and also that I’d be more useful to the scouts if I was skinnier”. 

“You think I’d like you better if you were dead?” Levi was leaning closer now, heat boiling in his eyes, “Because that’s where you’re headed right now. If you truly think you’ll be more helpful to the scouts when you’re six feet under, you’re delusional. And who the hell gave you the idea that your weight bothered me?”

His harsh words were cold slap in the face, your eyes burning and threatening to spill over with tears. You didn’t want to die, not really, you just didn’t want to hate yourself anymore. 

“No one! I don’t know, I just thought, maybe because I was bigger than you-,” You continued to stammer over your words, tears beginning to leak down your cheeks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved you off, not wanting to push the issue further, “You’re wrong, and I’m hurt that you’d even think that. I’ve never once thought that you were anything other than the way you should be”.

“I’m sorry,” your voice was weak and shaky, but your heart was pounding against your chest at his words. 

“I’m not the person you should be apologizing to, that’s something you owe to yourself” he shook his head and stood up to retrieve two small bowls of food from a nearby table, “I brought you something to eat”.

You watched him intently, pondering over his words about apologizing to yourself.

“It’s only a bowl of soup, so you can start small, yeah?” He offered one of the bowls to you, which you hesitantly took into your hands as you sat up. 

He sat down again across from you again, leaning back and taking a sip of broth from his bowl. You were grateful that he was here, that he was eating with you — it made things a little easier. You grasped the spoon in your hands and scooped up some brothy vegetables before lifting them into your mouth. 

“Good, finish the bowl,” nodded at you, giving you a reassuring look and lifting his own bowl to his lips again. 

The two of you ate in silence until you were finished, and then he sat the bowls back on his nightstand before finding a seat next to you on his bed. 

“Stay here tonight,” he stared at you with his signature tired eyes, but there were hints of concern laced through them now, “We’ll have breakfast together in the morning”. 

“Okay,” you gave him a weak nod, trying desperately to bottle up your growing emotions, but they were becoming too much to bear. 

Small sobs began to rack through your body, your chest tightening and your stomach lurching with anxiety. You were experiencing so many feelings tonight — eating for the first time in days and being here with Levi, it was overwhelming to say the least. 

You could barely see the captain through your blurry vision, but you could feel his arms maneuver themselves around you and pull you against his chest. You stayed like that for a while, Levi’s arms delicately holding you in place while quiet sobs worked their way out of your lips. 

“You’ve dug yourself into a deep hole, I won’t lie to you,” you heard him let out a tired sigh, “And it’s gonna take time and effort for you to dig your way out, but you’ll get there. We’ll start by having breakfast and dinner together every night, how does that sound? Just you and me, no one else has to watch”. 

You nuzzled a tiny nod into his chest, your tears finally running dry. It was a terrifying thought, eating normal again, but you were starting to feel hopeful that you might actually be able to do it. 

And so the two of you met every morning and every evening for your scheduled meals, and day by day things began to get easier. You even found yourself staying over in Levi’s room after dinner and into the morning for breakfast sometimes. Spending so much time together was definitely pushing the two of you to address the feelings you’d been hiding for so long. 

But not everything was perfect, it would be irrational to think it would be. You still have bad nights, where eating is so hard you break down into tears, and where you want nothing more than to rid yourself of the food in your system. It’s a draining process, but Levi works hard to make sure you stay on track with your progress. 

It’s slow, but eventually your face starts to glow again, your skin gets smooth and soft, and the aching pains in your body start to fade. Your war with your body is far from over, but you’re doing what you can, and you’re healing yourself one day at a time.

thank u for reading this, and now i would like to give you a gentle reminder to do something nice for your body today. eating disorders and mental illnesses are huge mountains to climb over, but taking things one day at a time makes it a little easier. try and eat a meal today (even if it’s small), go to sleep early and get some rest, take a shower and rub lotion all over your legs so they feel nice against your blankets when you lay in bed. baby steps are better than no steps at all, so be patient with yourself. n go drink some water, ur body loves that shit

When I Was Older...

Part 1/3

Captain!Intelligence!Lewis Nixon x Captain!Intelligence!Reader

Synopsis: Working side by side with the man you secretly love but openly hate is hard work. He tells you that your plans aren't smart, but he knows deep down that they are indeed lifesavers. But when he doesn't take your word and it winds up in 100 dead men, you two have an explosive fight, and words are said. Some were hurtful... Some were what you wanted to hear all along. 

Trigger Warning: Slight Depression (More like themes, deep sadness is more accurate), arguing, Lew is an ass. 

A/N: Okay listen lol. I know I’m obsessed with doing this to myself and musical imagines... So HERE I AM. Another one for you... And wow it's angst?? Who would have guessed?! (All of my followers blink slowly and nod at yet another Angsty piece of work “She’s at it again”). I have my 10 fics ready for the week so I hope you’re excited!! I am excited to give you this beautiful piece until tomorrow’s first fic at 3pm when Lipton's Wounded story is released. Kisses my loves.

Continue On: Part 2

Song: When I Was Older by Billie Eilish (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I4fD49Gbck) Lyrics are italicized, bolded, and in (parenthesis) : (Words).

(When I was older, I was a sailor on an open sea). Being an intelligence officer was something you aspired to be ever since you were a little girl, and you were the best one that the 506th had. You were brilliant, and every man in the 506th made you feel as such. Respecting you as if their life rested in your hands, which it very well did. Lew didn't like that though. “No Lew... They need to go this way, the enemy will expect them her-” “Y/n” He snarled out, cutting you off and stopping you in your tracks. “My plan will work... I don't need you telling me it won't” he spit out angrily towards you, making you sigh out furiously as you gripped onto the table.  (But now I’m underwater and my skin is paler). But Lew... Lew made you feel inadequate. Like you weren't smart enough to even mention something that could be life-saving. You shut down instead of speaking up once more. (Than it should ever be). You always felt like an idiot around him, but you never let it affect you... Until now. When asked by Sink if the plan you two just planned was adequate, you nodded instead of telling him that your gut told you wrong. Men were going to die. (Mhm....). You thrashed around in your bed that night. Thinking about all the men that will lose their lives, just because you couldn't stand up for yourself and push for them to see this mistake. Just because you loved Lewis Nixon. 

You stood above on the hill, watching as the men fought. (I'm on my back again). You inhaled shakily as you took a drag of your cigarette, your heart was racing faster than ever before... You couldn't help them now. (Dreaming of a time and place, where you and I remain the best of friends). You looked at Lew who was slightly in front of you, watching the men through his binoculars. You thought of how you and Lewis were best friends before you reached his rank with ease. You weren't from Yale. You weren't even from Harvard. You were just you. A brilliant mind that could save thousands... And yet, (Even after all this end), Lew somehow made you feel inadequate. Even after the war ended and the battles were won, you two would never, ever be as close as you used to be. (Can we pretend?). Exhaling shakily, you stepped forward, seeing the enemy tanks approaching. (I’m on my...). Just like you planned. (I’m on my back again). “I fucking told you Lewis” You snarled lowly as you stood next to him as he watched Dog company fly out of the trees. “WHO GAVE THEM THAT ORDER” Strayer screamed and you just rolled your eyes. Living... Living gave them that order to run. (It’s seeming more and more like all we ever do is see how far it bends). The tanks continued forward. All of those men. They would have been saved if he would have just listened. (Before it breaks in half and then). Now they were running for their lives. But would Lew listen to you next time? (We bend it back again). He glared at you before moving towards Strayer. Of course not. Almost 100 men died that day. All thanks to you. All thanks to him. 

(Guess I got caught in the middle of it). You hated him, yet you loved him. He made you feel so inadequate and normally, you would argue and fight. (Yes, I’ve been taught, got a little of it in my blood, in my blood). It was in your blood to fight your way to the top. You were raised to stand up for yourself. You wanted something? Fight. For. It. And yet, you failed your father. All for a man, who you loved. All for a man, who hated you. (Memories burn like a forest fire). Thoughts of him and you laughing while drinking at the bar back in Aldbourne burned into your body as you walked to your bedroom. (Heavy rain turns any funeral pyre to mud). Your tears were falling down your cheeks as you felt the loss of those men. (In the flood). You got into the room and slammed the door close, before sliding down it. Covering your mouth to suffocate the sob that was rising in your throat, you felt the guilt. (When I was older). You never wanted this as a little girl. You dreamed of saving lives. Not taking them. (I was a sailor). You cried out as you leaned forward in the dark, sobbing harder and harder with each passing second. You never wanted to be this. (But now I’m underwater). You felt like you were drowning like you couldn't break the surface and breathe. Choking on air, you tried to come down from the panic.  (And my skin is paler). This wasn't you. (Than it should ever be). 

But nowadays... 

Letting out one final sob, you put your head back against the door, looking up at the ceiling. 

It was.

You fell asleep on the floor. Waking up to the sound of someone knocking on the door, you looked out in front of you for a second. Feeling lost and broken, you didn't want to move. “Y/n” Dick called out and you sat up while rubbing your throbbing head. “I’m coming, Dick... Just give me a second” you whispered out as you began to stand up. “Y/n” he whispered through the door and you stopped, staring straight at it. “Can I come in?” He asked kindly, you nodded but realized he couldn't see you, instead you reached forward and opened the door. He saw your messy hair and puffy face, he knew you. He knew the minute everyone came back that you were going to go cry all alone in your room. He knew who did this to you... He hated how Lew showed his love... It was such a tough love. Something you of all people didn't deserve. Lew came around the corner just then and your face hardened at seeing his. Dick turned around towards his friend and sighed, “I think you two need to talk... Now” Dick hissed as he grabbed Lew and pushed him into your room. “Hey! We have work to do-” Lew began but Richard just cut him off with a hand. “You two have to work together, now. Talk Lew. I’ll tell Sink that I couldn't get either of you up in time. You have 20 minutes” and then, he was gone. Leaving just you and Lew in the room. (I’m watching movies back to back in black white). You crossed your arms waiting for him to start, but of course. He wouldn't. (I never seen anybody do it like I do it any better). “Why do you hate me” you stated softly. (Then going over you, I’m overdue for no endeavors). “I don't hate you” he grumbled and you just scoffed before stepping forward. (Nobody lonely like I’m lonely and I don't know whether). You felt his absence ever since you got to his rank, and you were tired of it. You missed him. But he couldn't get over himself. (You’d really like it in the limelight). But at the same time, you couldn't get over him. (You’d sympathize with all the bad guys). You stood there still. Waiting for him to make his next move. As an intelligence officer, you knew the enemies next moves, but Lew? Lew was different. (I’m still a victim in my own right). Lew's eyes shot angrily to yours. “You know that you’re not as good as you think you are?” he hissed and you felt your heart break a little. “Really?” You snapped back finally standing up for yourself “Who fucking trained me LEW” you screamed finally as you slammed your hand down on the table. (But I’m the villain in my own eyes, yeah). “You would be smarter if I trained you” he growled and you just snarkily laughed as you grabbed his collar. Yanking him down to your height. Your lips trembled and his heart broke. Why was he doing this to you? He loved you... (When I was older). “I have wanted this since I could talk Lewis Nixon” you whispered shakily, the anger flooding through your veins as you grew the balls to tell him how you really felt. (I was a sailor). “I am good at this... you know it, I know it.” you snarled as you gripped the collar tighter. He just stared at you blankly, not showing any hint of remorse or emotion for that matter. (On an open sea). “You will not make me feel inadequate or stupid... I know who I am. I know my worth. YOU. DONT.” You screamed in his face and you saw his eyes blink as you saw a fleeting emotion cross his eyes. Guilt? Regret? You didn't know. You didn't care. “And to think” you started up once more as you let go of his collar and walked to the door. “100 men died... Because I was hopelessly in love with a man... Who treats me like shit” you laughed out darkly. Lew’s heart stopped at hearing those words, part of the reason he was mean, was because he thought you didn't like him. It was easier. But now that he knew the truth... It was too late. You blinked away the tears as you opened the door. “I love you” he called out hoarsely making you pause in the door frame. You straightened your back up and turned towards him. A tear fell down your cheek as you mustered the strength to say the three words that resonated inside of you...

“I hate you.” 

The three words made Lew stop breathing as he felt the result of his actions. Turning, you left him there in the room. Heartbroken and shaken. He sat on your bed and rubbed his face. He couldn't hate you for those words... “I hate me too.” For he felt the same way. 

tags: @hell-itwasyou @desired-love-

So im going to be doing psychiatric inpatient tomorrow and im horribly frightened. My s.o. and friends want me to go, but the idea of being trapped without home comforts and the people I love scares me so much Ive considered running away from the hospital or convincing them I dont need it. I know that my depression and psychosis is getting worse and I probably need the help, but im upset that the people I care about would rather send me away than just, be supportive. Any advice?

hey love. well first of all i just want to say that i’m really fucking proud of you for reaching out in the first place. that’s literally a monumental step to take, and it requires unbelievable strength, which you obviously have. honestly, i think that you’re allowed to be scared. you’re completely allowed to not want to go, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. fear of the unknown, of change, of talking about what’s going on in your head, of not being around your family - those are all stressful experiences, and terror is a natural human reaction to them. you dont have to push it away, you’re not wrong for feeling it. it would be weird if you weren’t afraid, actually, especially at this point. it’s alright to just process it, and to work through it one hour at a time. or one minute at a time, if an hour seems like too much. but it’s not alright to let these emotions control you completely, or to let them blind you, or to cope with them in an unhealthy way. that’s the distinguishing line - it’s the difference between having a thought, and actually acting on it. the truth is, you don’t know what it’s going to be like. when you’re overly anxious, your mind kind of convinces you that negative thoughts are 100% true, but that’s not the case. your worries are not premonitions. the future doesn’t even exist yet, it’s not something that is currently in your control. while the hospital will probably be sad and uncomfortable, it’s likely that it will also be relieving and peaceful. you have to take the good with the bad, and let that be enough. think of the worst case scenario, and the best case scenario, and prepare yourself for it turning out to be somewhere in the middle, in actuality. it’s wonderful that you can recognize that you actually do need help. the level of self awareness you have could save your life. that’s a tangible fact that you can hold on to. when your brain tries to tell you that you dont need to talk to anyone, or when the anxiety takes over, you can always ground yourself in reality. and the reality of it is that you’re not well. but support is available, and your current situation is not where you’ll always be. you’re not alone. there’s no shame in needing treatment, you know? your mental health is just as important as your physical health, and sometimes it needs intense care in order to improve, just like any other bodily ailment. please, please try to constantly bring your mindset back to looking after yourself. please try to keep that your top priority, even when you don’t feel capable, even when you’re afraid. you’re not going to regret doing what’s right for you, ever. it sounds cliche, and it sounds like bullshit, and maybe it’ll take a while before you actually believe me but eventually, you will. seeking professional guidance and truly looking into your options will allow you to figure out the root causes of your mental illness, which will then allow you to finally confront them adequately. having someone to talk to consistently, working closely with people that are trained specifically to help you, figuring out your own self destructive patterns and then actively working on refuting them - all of that will add up. every single effort you make is going to pay off.  your future self is going to thank you.

i know it may seem like the people that care about you are just ‘sending you away’, and i can certainly see why your mind would want you to believe that. but i really do think that they think that putting you in hospital is going to help you more than it will hurt you. they want you to be safe and healthy so that they can spend more time with you in the future, and so you dont have to live with all of the pain and heaviness that you’ve been living with so far. a depressive brain will ALWAYS make it look like everyone is sick of you, or like nobody understands, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. of course, i dont know what the dynamic is like with your family, but i’m certain that there are at least some people in your life that are genuinely doing this with good intentions. i’m not saying you shouldn’t feel the way you do, because i can 100% understand why you perceive the situation like that, i’m just saying there is more than one side to it. it’s not as black and white as just wanting to ‘send you away’, you know? in addition, you’ll be amazed at your own ability to adapt and to grow and to improve. if you’re honest with the professionals, and if you’re willing to just give it a go, then that’s what matters the most. the simple act of trying is more than good enough, man. not having home comforts, and not seeing your family as much will obviously be very upsetting. that’s to be expected, therefore it’s something you can prepare yourself for. something you can work through. you can come to terms with it at your own pace, in your own way. you will learn how to handle it because you have the tools to do so, and that’s really all you need. running away from the hospital wont change anything, and convincing people that you’re okay when you’re not could have disastrous consequences, and is also rather unlikely. it’s clear that the best choice you can make at this moment in time is to  put yourself first utterly and completely. even before your own fear. it’s a lot easier said than done, i know. and since it’s the day before you have to go, this is the worst it’s going to be in terms of how scared you are. but you dont want to look back in a few months or a few years and regret not grabbing the opportunity to get help when it was right in front of you. and that fact is far more important than any temporary emotional turmoil that you’re dealing with. it may help to talk to your parents or a family member/friend about how you’re feeling tonight, so that you dont need to carry the worry all on your own. 

again, i’m extremely proud of you. and i think you’re going to do so so well. you just need to give yourself a fair chance, that’s all. this process isn’t supposed to be easy or comforting, especially not at first, but it’s also not going to be anywhere near as bad as you think it’s going to be. i’m sorry angel, i get that it’s difficult, and i wish there was something i could actually do for you. but i’m rooting for you so so much. you’re strong, capable, worthy and loved. and you’re a good person. even if you cant see it at the moment. your happiness and mental well being is so important. the hospital stay isn’t going to last forever, but what you learn there might. i’m sending you all of the love in my heart. i seriously hope you’re able to find the peace that you deserve. i’ll keep you in my thoughts. i’m always here if you need a friend, or if you want to talk about it properly. hit me up any time.

9th scene

Escape.

excluded from everybody else. standing there with only three letters. she provides fast exit, instant healing, forget me pill,amnesia fluid, dots and dashes. she's the joker of this tickling squares. she's the lone wolf of the pact. she's the mystery on this tragedy.

final scene

list of bad words 'that i am aware of'

fuck. shit. cunt. bitch. asshole. bumhole. jerk. motherfucker. jerkface. shitface. fucker. dick. dickhead. shithead. arsehole. titsucker. discksucker. insolent fuck. garbage shit. flying fuck. dickface. toesucker. bloody vagina. idiot. moron. faggot. fuckhole. cock. cockface. cocksucker. crack. crackhead. pothead. shitstain. asswipe.

two and a half hour excerpt

no, this needs introduction, i am just not sure what kind. well, the question is: will it satisfy my craving, will it fill the void inside, will it be able to envelope me on its existence. is it going to be adequate, will it be magical, will it be life-changing, will it be right, is it going to reflect my morale, my beliefs, the truth, what is needed, what is asked.

i do not want to make this another complaint to my lack of ability to communicate. many have already suffered even though it was all in vain. i am at fault for all the unnecessary mess my emotions have caused, so i will now refrain to do that.

it is funny how i've been trying to make myself less anxious about my actions. i really wanted to get close to everyone, but as soon as i get comfortable something bad happens.

let's try to talk about something else. i'll try to create a story maybe one that concerns the schedule that every one has. let's talk about how problematic it is.

so let's say an agent, Agent A, will have a schedule that goes five days straight and the rest days are situated at the beginning and at the end of the week, those days doesn't have any over times plotted.

Happy Birthday,

Maybe this is the first actual written greeting that I will write myself and will receive for myself.

First off, I wanted to congratulate you for how far you've come. You're still alive, you piece of work. I'm so proud of you and by the progress you've created for yourself. I've seen how you've struggled and also the triumphs you've gained. You've made connections with people around you, you're so brave I love you. You make me want to cry, but i really do love you. I hope that from all the failures that you've experienced you'll learn from it and fly high like a phoenix rising through the ashes.

I can see the maturity from your words and actions, not completely but atleast I can see you trying. Your flaws are always shining they're ugly but they've become a pride that you can wear like a badge so still I am proud of you. I can see you go far, just alwaysremember to be kind hearted and see people's needs.. Thank you very much for the bravery you've displayed.

Mak, you're so incredible and I know that you deserve all the love in the world. Don't forget to always smile, through the good times, on your victories, on the moments you think deserves to be cherished, I love you. And also you can always cry if you think everyhtings too hard to handle. dont try to hide your feelings anymore, because, that's what will make you special and that's what will seperate you from all the rest. You can be angry, and be sad, and be happy, and be disappointed and upset and joyous, and you can be grateful. you can be you to the truest sense of the word.

I love you, because you've been such a good boy, you tried so hard to understand others, you've been living with your skin confidently and comfortably. you're not scared when its about speaking up for good reasons.

I love you and happy birthday.

i dont know why but i always feel like a burden, everyone seems to hate me secretly. i really hate myself, i really hate myself for thinking that way. i am in pain right now and i cant tell a soul about it, i feel very weak, i am very selfish, i really really hate myself, i am crying because i dont know im just so fucking useless right now im a loser a fucking pathetic loser. i hate myself, i hate the way i look, i hate the way i act, i hate way i always seem to bypaxss people who are very nice to me, im a fucking nobody, fuck! fuck mE

2 Hour Novel

This is not fictional.

Everything that will be said are relevant facts that will be of help for the build up and further enriching of the boring plot of the narrative.

Please refrain from eating up the time, just because you cannot comprehend one-single section of this light novel. Nothing in here will be educational nor soul flourishing. You have the choice to stop whenever you want, I am giving you the choice, I feel like God.

For the full version of this preface, click here and you'll be directed to hell.

Phase One.

I was sitting between that sweaty man, who i assume a worker from the plant

Have i ranted lately about how much I fucking love “City of brass?” I fucking love this book. I don’t know how many times I’ve reread it. I’m slowly annotating it. I have “kingdom of copper"s release date on my calendar. Why isn’t everyone talking about this book? It’s incredible and pushes all my book buttons. I can’t even express the reasons I love it in full depth. I can’t like adequately convey why I love it and how much I love it. I mean, broadly speaking, one reason I do is the setting. Unique, you don’t see a lot of western fiction setting its stories in 1800 Afghanistan, with characters both nonwhite and Muslim. I haven’t read many fantasy stories about a realm inspired by Islamic and Arabic folklore and myth. "Aladdin,” of course, Scherezade, and I’ve read some Conrad and Kipling, and HR Haggard, and probably a random short story or two, but not a lot. And of course given our political climate, why risk featuring anyone Muslim at all? So it’s great to read a fantasy featuring PoC and an amazing pantheon of mythic creatures and stories that I’m not familiar with. Second reason to love it is the incredible story. So much political intrigue! There are so many mysteries remaining at the end of the book, driving me nuts! What is the truth behind Dara’s ring, is it just his enslaving charm or is it a counter to the seal? Is Nahri actually Menizheh’s daughter, or Menizheh in disguise, or not related at all? We dont even know if she’s a shafit or a daeva. Was anything the king said to Nahri and Dara in their first meeting true? Was Menizheh his lover? Was she really a friend? Or is he just playing the game, making the soothing remarks expected by constituents who wait to hear what a politician says about a dead rival? How’d she fake her death? Or did she? Is Ali the king’s true son? Did Zaynab try to murder Nahri that first night, not just get her drunk? What’s Nasreen’s real story? Is Jamshid secretly a Nahid? Are all Daevas now descended from the Nahids, as part of a rebellion plan? This isn’t even like a tenth of the questions I have. Very engaging and entertaining story. Related to that, the writing is, in the technical sense, near flawless. The narrative technique of alternating point of view characters per chapter is nothing new, but it is utilized to great effect, allowing chakraboty to control the pacing of the book, and boy does she, keeping readers on a roller coaster of cliff-hangers and gasp-inducing betrayals. Textbook tricks of conflict-driven storytelling, such as misunderstandings, just-missed-each-others, deliberate sabotage, multiple players with unique motivations, and plain dumb luck, are employed perfectly, keeping the story realistic and playing fair with your reader, keeping them guessing with misdirection that would be the envy of any master magician. The catty politics are deliciously indulgent, better than anything on daytime soaps. The players are all so clever, and sometimes they’re devious and sometimes they’re shameless, and it is fun! The way it is written is phenomenal, the way that writing tools are used is perfect. Like, when you’re teaching writing, use “City of brass” to illustrate what those tools are, how to use them successfully, and how to tweak but not break them. Now well I will say this, that I thought some of the dialogue, particularly regarding the syntax and vocabulary of the speakers, is sometimes anachronistic. There is also a lot of information that is tough for a reader to absorb, such as unfamiliar/made-up terminology, unfamiliar character names, and a complex and unfamiliar setting. I caught and better understood a lot more of the various plot points and political thorns in my second read-thru, thereby further enriching my experience of the story. So all that world building exposition can be overwhelming and move a bit too fast in some places. Another huge reason to love this book is its morality. For me, this is a book where it’s hard to label your hero and villain. Who’s in the wrong, and who’s in the right? Was it wrong for the Nahids to murder shafit? Their covenant to Suleiman was to leave humans alone, and they were terrified to let the djinn breed with them, so does that justify killing shafit? Is Dara right when he says in his time the shafit were treated like animals, as subhuman? Does that justify his prejudice, if that was all he was ever taught? Sins of the parents passing to children and all that; bigotry learned from parents’ example? Are the Qahtanis morally justified in overthrowing the Nahids in order to protect the shafit? Or is that last disqualifier a dealbreaker, and they overthrew the Nahids for their personal benefit, not for the shafit? Does it matter whether they give the former or the latter as their reason? If they aren’t morally justified in their coup, is Dara ethically right to start a rebellion? After all, Qathani killed his family well not personally. Was Dara right to take his revenge on his human masters, after he was enslaved and heavily abused? Why or why not? I love that I can’t parse out in a logical, moral process with empirical evidence, which party has a legit grievance and which’s being a drama queen. I really applaud chakraboty for pulling off this immensely difficult technique in creating a true morally ambiguous story. She does it better than Rowling, as in HP good and evil were the usual cliched stereotypes and people were easily sorted into the correct side, good or evil. The gray morality is a massive plus for the book. And finally, the characters. I have strong feelings for these characters, and that's what writers want, for readers to react in some way any way to their character. I like Nahri, she’s clever and jaded and trying to survive political machinations, and I want to know who wants her and why, who her family is, why she was abandoned. I want her to come out the winner in this trilogy, whatever that means. And I ship Nahri/Dara, it is the OTP, as is Muntadhir/Jamshid, Jamshid on top, shut up its my headcanon. I hate Ali, and it’s fun but also a little shameful to do so. He is the oldest 18-year-old ever. Hes a sanctimonious prick, a holier than thou cultist. But boy does he have a rough time, everything goes wrong for him despite his nauseating piety and seriousness, and at first it’s funny to see him get suckered but then the stakes go up and you sympathize with him. I’m interested in his emotional development, what the psychological arc is going to be for him. I mean he needs to get fucking laid so bad. Also he’s like half crocodile now so we’ll see where that goes. And of course Dara. I fucking love Dara so fucking much. He’s just so extra all the time. Raising those shedu, breaking that glass table with his bare fist, calling the king a sandfly to his face, tipping over his teacup and pouting, the way he killed the rukh, the way he reacts to nightmares. Dry and witty, and more clever than you think, and cunning. Unbelievably fucked in the head. Fragile, outrageously delicate, like two triggers away from a complete and murderous breakdown. A serious PTSD sufferer with mental trauma from an actually horrible life, even before his 14 centuries of slavery. That boy has suffered, and it’s made him hard and focused and isolated, even while his high intelligence keeps him spewing shrewd insults and nailing his power moves, and his emotional self remains a soft gooey ball buried deep inside. Honorable, racist, judgmental, a man who follows his moral code with integrity, arrogant, powerful, a hero, a war criminal, a legend, a demon, a scourge, a victim, a pawn, a master of his own destiny, clever, rude, obstinate, dead?, genuinely kind, noble, grieving, dignified, mysterious, gentlemanly, depressed, and dangerously fucked up. Oh I love it, ahhh, the angst tastes so good, i'm creasing my eyes in pleasure lol and the hurt/comfort aspect, ooooooh it just hits every nerve ending in a perfect ping. It won’t be a happy ending for him, a tragic hero like that always dies, ask Shakespeare, but I really wish he would make it, not just live but have a fucking happy ending, he gets the girl, he gets the throne, he gets a therapist and a bottle of Cymbalta and a recommendation to smoke one joint twice a day. Please he deserves a happy ending, what with all his suffering. The way Sirius and Remus both deserved happy-ever-afters. The way Gen does too, in the “Queen’s Thief” series, and which he also probably won’t get. But oh man I want Dara to be happy, whatever that means. Anyway, this book rocks, dying for the next one, everyone should read this book, it is fucking fun.

The Problem Isnt Just Trump. Its Our Ignorant Electorate.

For many of us, mornings have taken on a certain nauseating sameness. We roll out from beneath the blankets and, before the scent of coffee has reached our nostrils, we are checking the news feeds for the latest semi-literate tweet coughed up by the ranting, traitorous squatter occupying the Oval Office.

The rest of the day is spent in a kind of horrified suspension, holding our breath, waiting for whatever outrage will inevitably belch forth from the White Houseonce a bastion of seriousness and decorum, now ground zero for the demise of western democracy. How many lies will Trump spew today? Which dictators will he suck up to? Will he smear a Gold Star family? Attack a woman who dares to call out his smarmy predations? Unveil a puerile, racist nickname for a Senator or member of his own cabinet?

As much as we loathe it, however sickening it might have become, every day seems all about him, a former game show host and real estate failure, a hawker of rot-gut vodka and bullshit degrees from a fraudulent University who once styled himself as the Donald. The cable news shows lead with his most recent flatulence, the op-ed pages brim with intimations of doom, late night comedians are having a field day.

He is the president and, thus, bears watching. But we would be mistaken to think that he is truly the center of our universe, a man with a plan, commanding the heights, directing the action.

Virulent as he may be, Donald J. Trump is a symptom not the disease. Without us, he would amount to nothing more than what he had always been before the bizzaro presidential election of 2016: a foppish narcissist desperate for any measure of affirmation; a joke; a nothing. He did not create his voters. They have been there all along, seething with sometimes justifiable anger and suffering their various insecurities. They created and enabled Trump. And make no mistake, in all their vulnerable humanity, they are us: Gullible, compliant, distracted, marinating in irony.

At root, we the people are the problem.

We are understandably reluctant to impugn the intelligence and integrity of our fellow citizens. It is arrogant, uncivil, bad form. Who are we, any of us, to hold ourselves superior? When Hillary Clinton referred to some Trump supporters as deplorables, she was roundly castigated on all sides. How dare she? Yet it is an uncomfortable reality that anywhere from a fifth to a third of our electorate can be fairly (if gently) described as low-information voters. If the results of numerous polls and questionnaires are to be trusted, they know very little about the world they inhabit and what they do know is often woefully incorrect.

Surveys conducted every two years by the National Science Foundation consistently demonstrate that slightly more than half of Americans reject the settled science concerning human evolution. They are not unaware that virtually all credible scientists accept the overwhelming evidence that we evolved from earlier species. They simply choose not to accept that consensus because it doesnt comport with their deeply held beliefs. Many also embrace the absurd notion that the earth is only six thousand years old. Astonishingly, in the early 21st century, around a quarter of our citizenry seems unaware that said earth revolves around the sun.

It is a mistake to regard concern about such ignorance as effete snobbery or elitist condescension. While misapprehensions about basic astronomy, earth science and biology may have little impact on these folks daily lives, does anyone actually believe that similarly uninformed views arent likely to affect their grasp of policies regarding, say, climate change? Income inequality? Gun violence? Immigration?

Profound knowledge gaps like the aforementioned reveal an inability to think critically and leave a person vulnerable to all manner of chicanery. We are all ignorant about many things. Dont get me started on my dismal grasp of mathematics! But the hallmark of a sound education is not glorying in what you think you know, but, instead, appreciating the vastness of what you dont know.

If ignorance is the key that opens the door for charlatans like Trump, improved education, whether in school or in the public square, would seem to provide an obvious solution. But here we confront the perverse Dunning-Kruger Effect identified by psychologistsessentially, the less we know, the more certain we become of our superior knowledge. We have also discovered that exposure to facts and evidence does not always have the expected impact. Many people, when confronted by irrefutable proof that some core belief is incorrect, dont change their minds but dig in their heels. What feels right to them must be right and no amount logic and reasoning will dissuade them. Emotion trumps evidence.

Not too long ago, I fell into conversation with a woman aboard an airplane. Our chat somehow turned to health care. She offered the opinion that people who couldnt afford health insurance didnt deserve medical services. Why should she pay for someones care when they were obviously too lazy to earn their own money?

Because Im my own kind of fool, I rose to the bait. Did that mean they should be allowed to die in the street? I wondered. Well, no, she said. That would be inhumane. They could always go to an emergency room. So she was willing to pay for their care, I observed, but only in the least efficient, most expensive manner. This gave her momentary pause, but she quickly regrouped, simply repeating her prior assertion: Why should she pay? I didnt ask who she planned to vote for in the then-upcoming presidential election, but given that she had also voiced the opinion that women were, by virtue of their gender, unqualified to be news anchors, Im guessing it wasnt Hillary Clinton or Jill Stein.

She is hardly the worst example of an unthinking voter. Bill Maher once invited onto his show former GM Executive Bob Lutz. One supposes that such a fellow has benefited from an adequate education and that hes open to reason. Yet, when the subject of climate change arose, Lutz denied it was happening. A bunch of nonsense as far as he was concerned.

As it happened, Maher had also invited Neil deGrasse Tyson, an astrophysicist, educator and Director of the Hayden Planetarium. Tyson patiently explained why Lutz was misinformed. The planet was warming. Humans were largely to blame. This is how we know.

You might expect an educated person to respond by at least engaging on the topic. Tyson was, after all, vastly more knowledgeable on the subject at hand. Had their roles been reversed, with the topic being cars, I have no doubt he would have deferred to the automaker, asking questions, trying to improve the state of his own knowledge. Not Lutz. You could see him shutting down before Tyson had even warmed to the topic (no pun intended). As Upton Sinclair famously put it, Its hard to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on him not understanding it.

Anyone who has watched the focus groups of Trump voters has seen this sorry dynamic played out again and again. Everything, no matter how tawdry or malicious, is excused or minimized. You get the feeling these folks would accept the sexual molestation of teenage girls as a trade-off for Neil Gorsuch. In fact, many did in supporting Roy Moore.

Welcome to the Post-Truth Era.

Much has been written about the impact social media and the internet in general have had on how people receive and absorb information. By now, we are all familiar with bots, trolls, phony scandals and the tendency of folks to hunker down in their own info-silos. The old adage that a lie is halfway round the world before the truth gets its socks on has never been more salient.

Consider the recent attacks on one of the young Parkland shooting survivors. A teenager who had just witnessed classmates being gunned down at his own school quickly discovered that speaking up for common-sense gun regulation resulted in vicious trolling and the viral lie that he was a paid crisis actor. This was similar to what befell the grieving families of the small children murdered at Sandy Hook Elementary School in 2012. Imagine waking one morning in a state of searing grief over the violent death of your baby to discover that some odious prankster like Alex Jones is telling his gullible audience that the whole tragic incident was staged, that your child was actually a paid performer doused in artificial gore and posed in a gruesome tableaux of death.

That Jones and his ilk have not been thoroughly shamed and driven from the public sphere says a lot about our growing tolerance for vile nonsense.

Trump did not invent Fake News. The Big Lie has been the stock in trade of con men and tyrants since time immemorial. But he understands its value. Alternative facts as his lickspittle factotum, Kellyanne Conway infamously put it, has long been his metier. Hes a bullshitter, a phony and now hes our president.

This shouldnt have happened. But we let it happen, though Trump did have plenty of help

Unsurprisingly, the Fox propaganda machine and any number of right-wing radio ranters enthusiastically clambered aboard the Trump Train. They were abetted by many in the mainstream media who, mindful that Trump lured eyeballs to advertisers and too timid to call him out as the carnival barker he so obviously was, went along for the ride. A number of Republicans in Congress dismissed him at first. But when it became clear he had a shot at winning and that his devotees comprised at least half of their party, they scurried to adopt him as their useful idiot.

Its true that we are not all equally culpable. Roughly three million more people voted for Trumps chief opponent. But the right-minded among us didnt do enough to forestall the plainly looming disaster. The proof of that is the Trump presidency itself.

So, if we in our various incarnations are the problem, then what is the solution? Is there any way out? Wed better hope so. Whats certain is that its on us. We made a wreck of our government and its up to us to fix it.

There are positive signs:

A once compliant media has begun to take the gloves off. Genuine conservatives, outraged that their movement has been hijacked by philistines, are sounding the alarm. People are rising up and calling BS. For every Sean Hannity there is a Rachel Maddow, Jake Tapper or even Shepard Smith (at Fox News, no less!). For every Paul Ryan, there is a David Frum or Max Boot. Frothing crowds at CPAC are countered by the #MeToo movement and impressively eloquent teenagers fed up with politicians of any stripe who cower before the gun industry. On a good day, a John McCain or Jeff Flake will stand up to the cringing accommodationists in their own party. And, of course, Donald Trump himself, along with his corrupt lackeys, face a formidable foe in the person of Robert Mueller.

NSA Director Admiral Mike Rogers recent testimony before the Senate Intelligence Committee should mark a turning point, though he merely confirmed what has been apparent for some time: that even as our nation is under attack from a Russia determined to subvert our democracy, the president has not directed any relevant agencies to defend the country. This is a violation of the oath Trump swore on inauguration day and smacks of treason. We have entered uncharted waters.

Whats clear is that we need to use all non-violent resources at our disposal to rid ourselves and our country of the dangerous infection spreading from the White House into our body politic. These are not normal times and our usual reflexes will no longer suffice.

Trump is a problem of our own creation. We must become the solution.

Ron Reagan is an author and political commentator who lives in Seattle and Arezzo, Tuscany.

Read more: https://www.thedailybeast.com/the-problem-isnt-just-trump-its-our-ignorant-electorate

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