see i think the reason my psychosis never got me sent to the psych ward. 1) i was too paranoid to tell anyone my thoughts and feelings 2) i read enough books about "this <insert crazy thing> is happening to me!" "i don't believe you, you're crazy" so i just never told anyone that my little sister was actually a robot (which, i wouldn't have told my mom anyways, she was the one spying on me) or that there was a zombie in the kitchen every night. i just had a very lucky combination of psychosis and paranoia that made me not share my delusions so nobody knew i was delusional because i had the paranoid thought of "they wouldn't believe me and they would lock me up for seeming crazy when I'M NOT (i was)"
last semester i wasn’t doing well in a very important class i needed to pass in order to graduate so i was working my ass off writing essays and shit and every time i started slacking i would bring up this image and i’d say “ah fuck you’re right vash i really need to keep working” and then i’d write for another two hours and i actually managed to pass and graduate and i honestly don’t know if i would’ve been able to without this picture. thank you vash
there's no preventing the deepening blush in her cheeks at the compliment, a hand raising to tuck some stray hair back behind her ear. " i'm a journalist. i was working a story abroad, but ultimately it led me back home... " her dazed smile becomes somewhat abashed then, twisting the strap of her bag over her shoulder absently in her grip. " uh... no, that would be a first for me. and clearly a LAST with the spectacular mess i've managed to create! " she laughs at her own expense easily, tone still very much apologetic despite the other's assurances. " anyways, " despite the strangeness of it all, given that they led with kissing prior to introductions, she offers out her hand to the other in a more formal greeting, " i'm april, april anderson. i'll stick to some other excuse to get out of blind dates in the future, i promise. "