Hii!! I want to request a fic(･´з`･)

dg with an always sleepy fem!reader who is always sleeping on the most random places?? Like, in the park, in bathtub, the kitchen, etc.

I was obsessed with this man, and since I always sleep on the most random places and time(i don't know why, it just happens) so, I want to know on like, how would DG treat his lover??

Tysm!! Have a nice day <3

Goddamn it's so hard to write for Dg I swear I have a problem with this guy, like I admit he's hot but I can't find myself liking him idk UGH I wanna like him so bad ;-;

Sleepy lover

Word count: 1011

"AAAH DG!" "DG PLEASE LOOK OVER HERE!" "DG WE LOVE YOU!"

The idol waved at his fans, walking out of a luxurious shopping mall. He only wore a sleeveless black shirt with ripped jeans, it was such a casual fit but somehow still manages to stand out in the large crowd. The cheering didn't stop as he got back in his car, more screams and cries came out as they begged him not to leave.

Dagyeom was used to this kind of lifestyle, he remembers when they bothered him so much he'd lock himself up in the agency, panicking at the knocks outside the door, frightened of the ones who followed him home.

He knew he was no pushover, but he was dedicated to this disguise. Also, he couldn't just punch his fans in the face, no matter how much they disrespected his privacy, Dg has learned to be used to it.

And he finally has a source of comfort now, someone that gives him the motivation to keep going every day, which is why he is almost speeding on the road, rushing back home to you.

The first thing he did after stepping into the house was to roam around, deliberately avoiding the bedroom since he knew you'd be anywhere other than there.

Dagyeom recalls the heavy slap you gifted him during your first meeting. He found you sleeping soundly on a bench in the park around his house when he was out for a jog. The man thought you were homeless, being the kind guy he is, he brought you back to his house first, thinking he could help you somehow when you woke up.

Things didn't go how he planned, a scream nearly busting his eardrums echoed through the room. He went to check on you but before he knew it, his face burned with a red handprint imprinted on his cheek.

"KIDNAPPER! HEEELPP-…"

…Yes he knocked you out, but at the volume you were screaming at, the police from a mile away would come in no time. He was guilty as hell when you woke up with a bruise on the back of your neck, your first meeting was truly hectic.

Turns out you were just sleeping??? His eyes nearly popped out hearing you 'explain' how you were merely tired and that bench looked too enticing at the moment you couldn't help it. But after a few more chats and dates, he realized it was just a weird habit you have and it was adorable to him, though he wouldn't admit it.

It took another minute for him to find you spread out on the kitchen floor, sleeping deeply, even snoring a little. He chuckled at your figure, your arms and legs stretched out like a starfish, "you dork…"

He whispered under his breath, kneeling beside you and quickly scooping you up. Carrying you every day is now a lifestyle, this man has spotted you sleeping everywhere in your shared house, it's honestly a great workout!

"These can wait," Dg placed you on the sofa, next to the goodies he bought for you, there were all sorts of candies you wanted to try out and some branded clothes that he knows would look amazing on his sweet girlfriend.

He heard your stomach growl as you shifted on the couch, did she not have dinner yet, is that why she was in the kitchen? He sprints to the fridge, grabs the flowery apron lying on the counter and whipped out his professional cast iron skillet, ready to cook.

About a few hours later, you woke up from the smell of food drilling into your nose, legitimately. You knew it was your boyfriend as he is an astounding cook, he would've been a chef if he hadn't debuted. This was wayyy better than the ramen you were going to make, you hopped off the couch and sprinted full speed to the kitchen.

Your personal cook has a full table of dishes laid out on the table for you when you came into the dining room, and his eyes immediately landed on you.

"You're finally awake, I cooked a little something for you," he quickly smiled while tearing the cute apron off himself, then pulled out the chair for you to sit down. "Thank you…" you mumbled, technically half asleep, but that doesn't stop you from shoveling the piping hot food down your throat.

As if he couldn't be helpful enough, your angel of a boyfriend placed your phone on the table with a charger too. The notifications were blowing up none stop as your dead phone finally opened, they were all news channels that talked about kpop idols and Dg was for some reason the hot topic?

It's not that your boyfriend wasn't famous, but he hasn't released anything new these days, it was quite odd for him to be randomly so popular. You tapped into the news and burst out laughing at the title.

'Kpop star dg has been working out?' with an image of your boyfriend today, outside a building in a sleeveless shirt. You soon understood the header after seeing the picture, and damn did he look good. His arms were buffer and he was shining.

Dagyeom stopped washing dishes once he heard your laughter, sneaking up behind you to look at what humored you so much.

"What the fuck?" he laughed, "do I really look buffer?" He grinned slyly and flexed his arms.

"Yes you do, and yeah what the fuck have you been working out?" you snickered, though you knew he didn't work out, his busy ass doesn't have any time for that. That man is always immersed in work, but any free time he had, he'd spend it with you without a second thought.

"No I don't, it's from carrying you around all the time," he taunted, but you smacked his head before he could laugh. "Kang Dagyeom! Are you saying I'm heavy?" you pulled his ear and scolded him like a mom, and he could only listen like a good kid <3

.

My first time writing for dg, hmm... I HATE IT UGHHH ;-; but yes I love imagining him as a chef idk he just seems like a good cook??? Also I really just can't bring myself to use Diego... and I can't use james cause how the hell would she know his old identity

It’s been on my mind today but I need you to know.

Hitting 25 has been one of the best things to ever happen to me.

I don’t say this lightly - I lost my father who I loved dearly at age 18, I grew up a bit above the poverty line and now only *just* live above it. I’ve been treated for severe mental illness and learning disabilities since I was a child, starting at 6 years old. I have a physical disability and chronic pain. I have had some bad fuckin times, I’ve been through my share, and I’ll go through more I’m sure.

But I can tell you I feel so much better mentally at age 25, unable to stand for more than an hour or so without severe pain, on a consistent schedule of prescribed pain pills, discovering just how hard I was masking some pretty serious autism, struggling with my ADHD meds being less effective, and only leaving the house three total times a week because I’m immunocompromised than I was at age 13 when “all my problems were school”.

Because at age 10, nobody close to me had ever died before. At age 11, I had never lived in a new place before. At age 12, I had never felt so cold and empty and tired. I’d never endured my peers teasing me for crying about a death in my family. At age 13 I had never felt like I wanted to die before then, like the world was on fire, like it was ending. At age 14 I hadn’t known what it felt like to have period cramps so bad my mother sent me to school with a muscle relaxer and still had to pick me up by lunch, to have this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that being a girl was a lie and I was a liar. At age 15 I’d never had people remind me so viciously that I wasn’t like them, I’d never felt so throughly upset by the idea of one more person calling me she. At age 16 I’d never had my heart broken before, I’d never dealt with a friend turning on me completely. At age 17, I’d never had my family feel so broken. At age 18, I’d been petrified of the idea of my father dying, and he did. At age 19, I’d never actually thought about how I would kill myself before. At 20, I’d never gotten drunk before. At 21, I’d never gone inside a bar.

You get the picture.

Your teen years suck because you’ve never done so much shit, and on top of the terrifying experience of doing it all for the first time, you also have all your peers picking at you for doing it wrong the first time. Your teen years suck because they are chaotic and new and stressful and you don’t know how to handle them yet. You’re not supposed to know yet.

Hitting 25 was the realization that I wasn’t going to just up and die, that now I have to actually plan. I have to do taxes, and that I actually know how to. That I have to care for my pets and I know how to. That I have to drive to work and do my job and I know how to.

25 was what made me realize that I had things I was supposed to be around for. People and pets who relied on me, who loved me and needed me and wanted me.

That I can have a panic attack and know that I’m having one. That something can piss me off and I know I can take a moment before I respond. The awareness that I do not have to do everything for the first time all the time anymore, that I know stuff, that I’ve been around the block and can use those tools is INVALUABLE. The fact that I can look at my intrusive thoughts and, if I truly wanted to, CHOOSE to indulge them? That I can sit here and be the cat that doesn’t wish to go to the vet and the concerned cat owner?

It changes everything.

It was the realization that I am the one punishing myself. That I can and should respect myself as a person because it means I can respect more deeply the care that other people have for me. It sounds so stupid when I explain it but it’s absolutely a whole different ball game.

The fact that I think the only thing that could severely tank my mental health is if I were to become homeless in winter or actively abused or something similar should speak volumes to you what I mean when I say that not having to do everything for the first time all the time is a huge mental weight off you.

I promise. It will feel better when you are 25. I promise that even if it isn’t fixed, it will be easier. And if I’m wrong when you hit 25, you can come yell at me about it. Probably I’ll still be here.

Categorically, I’m one of the lucky ones. Both my parents are employed, and I have an employment opportunity coming up quite soon. We own our house, I’ve never had to go hungry, and we always have heat, electricity, and Wi-Fi.

and yet. AND YET.

We are barely above the poverty line. Some years I had to go without school lunches because we couldn’t afford the fees. We save money wherever and whenever we can. Going out to eat at a burger joint is a special treat for special occasions because we can’t afford it often. Some of my favorite foods and snacks- pomegranates, veggie straws, chips, hell, even lemonade -are luxuries because we just don’t have the money to spare for it. The attitude has rubbed off on me so much that I go out of my way to avoid spending money and I feel guilty when others spend money on me, even for things like gifts or fucking therapy.

If any of our phones were to break, it would probably ruin us. If any of our cars broke down it would be even worse. One of the reasons I got into achievement hunting and building and exploring in video games is because buying new games is almost always a luxury we can’t afford. I use achievement hunting and making complex builds and finding all the Easter eggs as a way to squeeze out every last bit of enjoyment I can from a game so I can last until we can afford to get new ones. All of our clothes are thrifted or second hand. Same for most of our furniture. We stay in our house all day not only because we don’t like going out often and there isn’t a lot to do, but because WE CANT AFFORD TO DO FUN THINGS MORE THAN A FEW TIMES A YEAR.

I worry constantly about how my basic needs affect my family’s wealth. And we’re the lucky ones, because I’ve never had to worry about being homeless. I don’t consider myself very lucky, actually. My family worries constantly about money. They hate their jobs. They can’t afford to get new jobs because going without a paycheck is too risky. And how would they get new jobs? Neither of them went to college, and we don’t have the money for any of us to go. I’m basically unemployable in my current mental state, and that’s not liable to change. We’re lucky. Most of my friends have it way worse than I do. And yet I don’t feel very fucking lucky.

Everyone talks about poverty in the context of not being able to eat or receive reliable healthcare. Obviously those are huge fucking issues that need to be immediately addressed, and I don’t mean to minimize them. But I hardly see anyone talking about the kind of poverty that gives you just enough to get by a little comfortably- but no more than that. You have the money for your home, your food, your car. But you don’t have money for games. You don’t have money to go out and eat something nice. You don’t have money to buy toys for your kids. You don’t have money to see a movie, or buy that new phone that would be such an improvement over the secondhand one you have now. You don’t have money for anything that would put you at ease. And yet, you’re made to feel lucky, that you should be grateful. You’re not poor, poor people can’t put food on the table. Stop complaining. Be grateful. You could have it so much worse.

No one even addresses that yes it could be worse. But it sure as hell could be a lot fucking better, too. And that kills me.

15 (+1) questions tag game - tagged by the ever full of whimsical energy 🩷💫 @bunniexmai 💫🩷

thank you for the tag!! I don't think I can answer these as creative and fun as you especially on mobile, but I'll tryyy

🌲 1. Are you named after anyone?

Actually , yessss, Me and my twin were both each named after our grandparents!! So he, my brother was named after my mother's father, while I was named after my father's dad!!

🌲 2. When was the last time you cried?

Tonight, but it's not because of self pity or anything like that. I mean yes, I'm a little bit sad about my life and am scared of the unknown of it, but I'll be okay 😊😊

I cried because my head hurts so much from my sinuse infection :/

🌲 3. Do you have kids?

No and honestly, I'm slowly accepting and being at peace with never having one in the future. SIGH.

🌲 4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

Oooh, Basketball, American football, football, baseball, and track!! I really want to try ice skating someday!!

🌲 5. Do you use sarcasm?

I'll use this again, What the fuck is sarcasm? Who is sarcasm? No, WHY is sarcasm?

yes, I dooooooo. But only in close friendships or with family because that shit is annoying and rude haha

🌲 6. What is the first thing you notice about people?

Like last time, their personalities and demeanor. I really don't really care about appearance unless it's something derogatory? But other than that, I like to keep it to myself, but characteristics are a huge radar for me.

🌲 7. What's your eye color?

Still these sexy, irresistible, and all consuming brown eyes 😌😌

🌲 8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings ALL THE WAY. I will only watch scary movies with my niblings or my future partner. Never by myself.

🌲 9. Any talents?

hahaha, I wishhhh 🫤

🌲 10. Where were you born?

TEXAS, but like the south side by the border!!

🌲 11. What are your hobbies?

Oooooh, reading, drawing, walks, jogs, basketball, gaming, cooking, baking, and visiting random stores like comic book stores, thrift stores, etc!!

🌲 12. Do you have any pets?

I used to have a cat named Ebony and a dog named esperer 💕

I miss them so much.

🌲 13. How tall are you?

5'7 or 5'8

🌲 14. Favorite subject in school?

ELA!! Something about going over about something I just read and trying to dissect it was fun for me!!

🌲 15. Dream job?

Working as an LPC in foster care centers/orphanages, homeless shelters, and retirement homes!!

However, more truthful, any stable financial job in which i can pay my bills, but still have enough for groceries, take out, or treat myself and loved ones to gifts would be enough for me 😊😊😊

🌲 16. BONUS/in place of 10- what reminds you of home (doesn't have to mean house... just things that remind you of the feeling of home)?

Hmm, this is a little difficult, but grocery shopping, walks at the park, every time I visit adoration at the chapel, playing soccer or in the playground with my nephews, walking from one place to another without having to rely on anyone to let me down or force to wait for them, music, movies/shows, playing video games - these all help me escape and daydream about feeling safe and cozy. A feeling that I think home would feel like; free, adventurous, grounded, safe, warm, and comfortable.

Did I make sense? I'm half asleep 😅 almost passing in and out!!

Thanks again for the tag!!

Trick, or treat?!

hi, lovely anon!

i may have mentioned before that i like to write isolated scenes of characters losing it when i'm going through shit to let off steam, so here is a piece of one of those that no one will ever see in full, modified into a one shot

-

Throughout his Gran's speech, Henry's hands became more and more sweaty, eventually getting to the point where he had to concentrate to keep them from slipping out of each other's grasp. It wasn't just the nerves; London had been on the receiving end of a massive heat wave - global warming, of course - and temperatures had breached 35 degrees Celsius for the first time that summer. It was no doubt deliberate - calling people together at unusual and uncomfortable places and all that - but if Mary thought discomfort would make him more pliable, she was sorely mistaken.

And that's what Henry was afraid of.

Because when his grandmother beckoned him up to the podium to give his speech, the speech so heavy in imperialistic and colonial ideals it would have made Philip uncomfortable, Henry found he couldn't do it. He made his way to the podium alright, but looking out into the faces he was supposedly responsible for, many of which were decked out in so many colored stripes and 'History, huh?' shirts one would think it was still June, he physically could not force himself to open his mouth and give this speech.

Thank you, Your Majesty. It is with great honor that I stand here today in front of such a wonderful people with the soul of our nation's history behind me.

Five years ago, he would have spoken the words laid out for him mechanically, filled with disgust for himself, because he thought that was his only option. Five years ago, he was so far in the closet, he didn't know which way was out.

Five years ago, he thought Alex hated him.

Things change, and he didn't have to take the Crown any longer.

He opened his mouth.

-

The moment Henry stepped on stage, Alex knew something was wrong.

It was 4:30 in the morning in New York, and Alex was watching the BBC broadcast of the royal speeches at the Tower of London. He couldn't give two shits about what the queen had to say, but he wanted to see Henry, and Henry looked like hell.

Just two nights before, Alex had traced and kissed and licked muscles over and over again until they fell flat, relaxed and strung out. Now, those muscles were rock hard, visibly straining against his suit, and only getting tenser the longer the queen spoke.

TV Henry stepped up to the podium and glanced down at the paper in front of him, then looked back up to give a speech Alex would never forget.

"Good morning, London," he began. For a second, he glanced down at the podium, and for a second, Alex thought everything was fine, that Henry was just gonna read off the script. Then he shook his head. "The speech prepared for me today is lovely, really. Kudos to whoever wrote it." Off to the side, Mary's eyes took on a hard expression. She didn't look mad, exactly; she would never let the public see her emote, but seen clearly wasn't happy. "But that's not my problem with it. You see, this speech weaves a beautiful tapestry of my family's history. A history that, when looked at with any kind of humane lens, is riddled with horrors, not least of which is actual genocide."

Alex's mouth dropped open. "Holy shit," he muttered, clutching the chain around his neck through his ratty pajama shirt. "Oh my god, he's gonna get assassinated."

Poor bleary David looked up at Alex then, but the brown haired man couldn't tear his eyes off the TV, not even when his phone started ringing.

Henry continued. "It's not like you even have to look very far to find it, not when this country is still actively involved in world affairs it has no business being involved in, or when I by myself am worth €25 million, and we have over 270,000 homeless people in the UK." He laughed, sending a shock through Alex's body, causing him to jump.

"Holy fuck, that's my boyfriend," he said into the empty living room. Then, louder, "That's my boyfriend." He was so fucking proud. (Worried, exponentially so, but also so proud.)

When Henry looked back at the crowd, his eyes were a bit manic. With a heavy hand, he slapped the podium and thrust an arm back, gesturing behind him at the Tower. "Look at that! I am literally standing in front of years of brutal colonialism, funded by jewels that aren't even ours! And it's right there! All in there."

Mary was still standing there, except now she was looking at a spot beyond the camera's sight line. Alex hoped to god it wasn't security. It was probably security.

It was okay, though, because Henry's arms were back down at his sides, although he was breathing heavily. "I apologize."

Alex breathed out a sigh, unsure if it relieved or disappointed.

"That's not quite true. Much of what we stole is in museums."

"Oh my god." For the first time in their relationship, Henry was the one fucking up a public appearance, and Alex was absolutely terrified for him.

On their call the night before, he'd mentioned something about the queen being worse than normal and making life generally miserable at the palace, but never in a million years did Alex anticipate Henry doing this.

"For now, I've got nothing left to say, which is probably a good thing since many of you are eyeing me quite distastefully, including my own security." He turned and got halfway off the podium before turning back around, holding up a fist, and saying, "Stay proud, London!" Then he left, disappearing out of the TV screen.

Alex didn't stay to see what happened next, instead scrambling for his phone. His thumb hesitated when he got to his contacts. Should he call Zahra, who could get him on a plane in the next half hour? Or Henry, who needed him?

He called Henry, obviousky. "Holy shit, sweetheart-"

"Alex, oh my god," Henry interrupted. "I'm coming home."

"Really?" Alex said, pausing on the stairs. Henry was still supposed to have two weeks left in London. "I was gonna come to you."

"No, I'm coming home," he said firmly. "Shaan said I can be on a flight within the hour. I'm not staying any longer than I have to."

"Okay. Cool. Hey, just out of curiosity, and feel free not to answer, but does this mean you've decided about abdicating?"

Henry laughed humorlessly. "I don't think I have a choice anymore."

"You always have a choice, sweetheart." Though Alex had to admit, it did not feel like it right now.

"Yeah." Alex heard a ragged breath on the other end of the line. "Alright. I think it's a yes. Right now. But we'll have to talk about it."

"Okay." Alex took a deep breath. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too. I'll see you in a few hours."

"See you, too."

He hung up and sat down heavily on the stairs, elbows on his knees and staring dumbly at the floor.

Holy shit.

How bracing to wake up yesterday and read that Amazon founder Jeff Bezos had donated $100m to Dolly Parton’s charitable endeavours, at his own “Courage and Civility” event. (Sarcastic airquotes: my own.) The many, many news reports about this act suggested it was a truly incredible sum from the second richest man in the world, who – according to recent estimates – gets richer by about $205m a day.

Anyway, once I’d peeled myself off the ceiling, I got busy on the government’s tax calculator. If you’re on the median average UK salary – and you pay your taxes – your take-home pay is £72 a day. Looked at one way, then, Jeff’s benevolence would be the equivalent of donating £34.56 to charity. Have YOU ever donated thirty-four quid to charity? Do you pay your taxes? If so, you’re actually being more generous than Jeff Bezos, who, famously, avoids almost all of his. And yet, where’s YOUR splashy news write-up in all the fine news outlets of the world? Where’s YOUR fawning TV interview? Why does no one refer to YOU as a “philanthropist”?

We’ll come to the obvious answers to those questions shortly, but for now, let’s look at the stage-managed hoopla around these so-called Courage and Civility awards. And yes, that title does make it sound like Jeff just demanded a warehouse operative bring him two inoffensive abstract nouns that were out of copyright. In fact, Bezos announced the initiative last year, shortly after disembarking his little space rocket, possibly sensing a planetary disdain being levelled at the kind of guy who could put himself in zero gravity for four minutes but couldn’t figure out how to treat his workers properly.

Anyway, the Courage and Civility awards are now an actual thing. And alongside Sunday’s self-effacing ceremony and his attempt to piggyback on the lifelong altruism and extraordinary charitable service of HRH Dolly Parton, Bezos granted an exclusive sit-down with CNN. First impressions? Jeff interviews like a chat tool, and resembles your local area’s most uncompromising and least booked 58-year-old Vin Diesel lookalike. Having long refused to sign the Giving Pledge – a promise by many of the world’s richest individuals to donate most of their wealth to charitable causes – Bezos announced that he intends giving “the majority” of his money away in his lifetime, according to CNN. And yet, does he intend to do this? His answer – “Yeah, I do” – feels somewhat vague and short on specifics.

But taking Jeff at his word, I mean it from the bottom of the heart when I say: BIG FRICKING DEAL. Most people give a significant amount of their money away during their lifetime, via a little something we call the taxation system. I know! Where’s our red-carpet gala? I tell you what, next time our paychecks arrive, why don’t we all get our hair done and put on black tie or a big old dress and graciously twat our way down a red carpet going “You’re MOST welcome!” for the cameras.

According to what Bezos told CNN, philanthropy “is really hard”. It certainly seems to be for him. Do recall he was only dragged kicking and screaming to the giving-a-shit game, having spent years accruing billions before it was finally pointed out to him that not having some kind of philanthropic arm looked fairly abysmal. In 2017 Bezos asked Twitter users for ideas on how to help the world “in the here and now”, before embarking on a truly committed programme of ignoring every single one of them who suggested paying his workers properly and contributing fair tax.

A year later, he actually uttered the words: “The only way that I can see to deploy this much financial resource is by converting my Amazon winnings into space travel.” That was the same year Amazon helped kill a Seattle tax on big firms to alleviate the homelessness crisis, by threatening to pull a huge building project. The business and tech commentator Scott Galloway calls Bezos “the mother of all welfare queens” for the vast benefits he’s drawn from public money and the tax breaks he remorselessly chases and demands.

But of course, Jeff is the kind of widely acclaimed visionary who simply lacks the vision to realise that the first way to help is by paying people a fair wage and forking out your taxes like an ordinary person – and not by turning up to dole out “charity” after the event like some bastard god of the purse strings. Unfortunately, he’s part of that specific billionaire class that believes they should be allowed to hypothecate almost 100% of their own vast riches in whichever direction they wish, because the exchequers of the world are just junior personnel, and they know better than all of them how to spend it.

So yes, for Bezos philanthropy “is really hard”. What he does – fauxlanthropy – is much, much easier. Moving billions to non-profits you control, effectively awarding yourself tax breaks, buying media fawning with one of the lamest possible sleights-of-hand: these things, self-evidently, are a whole lot easier. What’s hard to understand is why on earth we’re still buying into this obvious bullshit from some of the most selfish people in the world. The poor give a far greater proportion of their money to charity than the rich. I don’t mean to be uncivil, but what is courageous about letting Jeff Bezos pretend otherwise?

A Big Fat 🇺🇸🎆🍔-Centric Identity/Heritage Vent

i'm so fucking sick of hearing "if white culture makes you feel empty, identify as what your family was before they assimilated into the social construct" I CAN'T DO THAT THEY'RE ALL ENGLISH.

i don't know where everyone is pulling these 20th century immigrants from but for me everyone going back at least 5 generations was already in the US and assimilated. i have scottish heritage somewhere based on my name but fuck if i know where. my grandma's been maintaining her ancestry.com account for years. it's not in there, which means i probably can't ever find out.

i don't even feel connected to english people. i barely know anything about pre-US english history and most of what i do know is king arthur, the worst kind of christianity, and poverty. there's an english historian in my family, so that's a bad sign.

and apparently everything decent about this country's culture was made or brought in by other people and everything my people made is tainted somehow. the good things always turn out to be exaggerations or just lies. i know that sounds excessive but i just found out dunk tanks were originally racist. fucking DUNK TANKS. even the littlest things. power and business are nice to have but they don't make much of a culture.

my heritage seems to be "cheat and kill better than anyone else, take credit for all our lucky breaks, tell everyone we were pacifist heroes later and if anyone tells the truth, make them shut up". and if i choose not to embrace that i have no heritage at all.

and again, english, so i can't pull some "nope, not me actually" card and hop over to a culture i like better than "generic white". i know that's insulting but it reminds me of when i was in high school and i was mad at myself for being straight and "part of the problem". it turned out i was queer so it wasn't my problem anymore, but i never actually solved my issues with it, i just found an escape hatch.

also i'm jealous and salty. the rest of yall (another word i thought was ours but isn't), even if you can never get back what you lost, at least you know there WAS something. it's a tragedy but it's not your people's fault. for me... was there ever anything of substance at all?

oh yeah. i'm queer so most of my ancestors would probably hate me anyway, or have values i think are disgusting. joy.

"why not queer english then?" besides the fact a lot of them haven't treated me right? because honestly, when i hear about our history from just 40 years ago i feel like it was a completely different world. i don't feel continuity from stonewall or the aids crisis to my own life. even today, i see some homeless gay teen whose parents kicked them out and i'm furious for them as a human being, but i'm not their people and i know they wouldn't think a middle-class CPA hopeful with supportive parents was theirs either. we've had completely different lives.

and frankly, thinking about our recent past and the injustice of it all makes me want to projectile vomit.

i've tried talking this stuff out with my friends but... my girlfriend has a god complex (/gen /pos) and doesn't understand why i need a heritage, or any culture larger than a friend group. my next-closest political friend is both european and kinda using communism as a replacement for heritage, and everyone else i'm either not close enough to talk about this or they don't care about this stuff.

(also, and this is a genuine question so please reblog and explain if i'm wrong, why is, say, blackness more real than whiteness? they were both manufactured at similar times by english people, a bunch of groups lumped together regardless of heritage, but i consistently hear people say one is real and the other is not.

i know most black people can't find out their original ancestries anymore but identifying as black is clearly more than "the only available option" for people. it feels like the unspoken answer is "ours is good and yours is evil" but of course no one wants to say they think that way out loud.)

the point is. i feel like i've been in a culture of one my whole life. i'm not proud of my heritage and without it i feel a gaping emptiness without roots and a pinch of essentialism to tell me what to be. no, i shouldn't, my girlfriend never stops telling me BUT I DO.

does anyone else have this problem.

Thinking about Sparklecare more (Partially due to my system and having people from it and myself adopting the form of a mood mouse), and also reflecting on my own ER stay overnight.

I was voluntarily hospitalized for an OD on OTC pain medications to causr damage to my liver. It would have been a slow, agonizing death. But, what drove me to suicide was ableism and abuse from relatives I was living with about me being physically disabled and getting crutches for myself with my own money. My therapist called the cops on me because one of my headmates texted him.

I was taken there in an ambulance, the only things I had were my phone, clothes, and a stuffed animal. In the ER I had an EKG done and attempts at blood draws before I just got put in the psych ward overnight to talk to a social worker in the morning. My phone was taken from me, so I had no way to contact friends or family. I had to change into psych ward clothes that were like scrubs. I had written down phone numbers on paper and kept it in my bra so I could call others with landlines to give updates.

My room in the psych ward was a bed in the middle of the floor, white walls everywhere, and a TV I couldn't control. No windows or any other form of stimulation. I felt like I was losing my mind out of boredom. Boredom to me feels borderline physically painful, so I'd spend my time sleeping or being terrified. At one point a doctor told me that I can't use my OTC meds for a while to let my liver process it without adding more, and treated me like I just had no idea I was possibly going to die. I got woken up to do blood draws by nurses despite my fear of needles and them never listening to me on how to get it to work and how large needles cause pain for me and typically never work with my anxiety. My insomnia and anxiety made it hard to sleep, as well as hearing other patients beg to go home. One woman was crying about not being able to see her child. I couldn't even eat anything more than an orange because the meals they had were not gluten free and I have celiac. I was starving and just hoping my hypoglycemia didn't kick in and make things worse.

In the morning I was basically dropped off with my things at home after a social worker just did nothing. The person assigned to me for care and helping me get resources ghosted me multiple times. I was homeless for a month because I fled the house due to it being unsafe for me to stay there with an abusive relative and two enablers.

There's stuff to be said about medical malpractice and abuse in hospitals. About the refusal to believe patients or treat us as people who have autonomy. That as soon as you are considered "too ill" you are basically abandoned and left to die. The idea of media that speaks about the ableism from professionals was what drew me in, so I was exceedingly disappointed in the fact that what I was getting wasn't that. In the world of SCH, doctors are more akin to an oppressor social class with nurses under them, when oppression doesn't have a super structured levels of power. It's like a radfem view of ableism.

Free Zimbabwe

My first boyfriend Zimbabwe and I may have only dated for 6 months, but it was the most intense 6 month emotional roller coaster of a toxic relationship that I may ever expereince.

The first cut is the deepest, and the first relationship is definitely one that always sticks with you.

It's been over 5 years, almost 6, since we broke up. That was the last time I ever saw him, but even all these years later he's never left my mind.

I did truly love that man. It's crazy how things can start off so beautifully in the beginning, but then by the end it's so unrecognizable from that beautiful beginning.

I don't have any regrets. Well besides agreeing to have threesomes while in a relationship, but even that is a lesson learned to know to never repeat that mistake in future relationships. So no regrets. This relationship taught me so much about myself, and who I am when I'm in love.

Even though I was 26 in my first relationship, we all are young and dumb in our first relationships.

I'd been thinking of Zimabawe a lot lately. Well every year during Cuffing Season Snapchat does send me non stop old memories of me and Zimbabwe. We dated August - February which is all of Cuffing Season, so every 6 months I'm reminded of him with photos popping up every time I open SnapChat.

I don't have Zimbabwe's number. We aren't connected on social media, since he had my blocked when we were together and pretended he didn't have social media. Along with pretending to be DL/closeted while having an IG with 70K gay followers. The entire relationship was crazy, but I just chalked it up to well this is Atlanta...

The last time I heard from Zimbabwe was when he messaged me on Instagram nearly 2 years after our breakup to apologize for how he treated me. That didn't last long, since he had a bf and we were flirting, but he was acting like he was trying to be faithful. He also backed off once he realized I'd moved away from ATL.

Part of me thought he was sending feelers to find a new victim if the old one wasn't working out. To see if he could circle back to me.

I've always suspected that was Zimbabwe's M.O. The typical bum nigga tops in Atlanta. Professional hobosexuals. They just go from bottom to bottom for a place to live, which is easy to do. There's a lot of lonely bottoms with their own places in Atlanta, and so many bum homeless tops. It's easy to get seduced and love bombed, and move in your new boo since all you want to do is spend all your time together.

I hate thinking that, because i don't want to ever feel like Zimbabwe's love for me wasn't genuine, and he's assured me many times before and after the breakup that he did genuinely love me. Since he truly had nothing and was at rock bottom of his life when we were together. Still...there's always that little doubt.

I was hoping Zimbabwe and I would cross paths while I visited Atlanta for the first time in the 4 years since I moved away. Granted we never crossed paths after we broke up and were both still in Atlanta. Granted I lived in the city and he was always in the outskirts, and he wasn't ever in the gay scene, so we never had reasons to cross paths.

I was hoping he'd see me on Jack'd, and hit me up, and we'd spend the evening together and have sex. Lack of sex was a big issue in our relationship since I wasn't on PrEP back then, and I was too scared to have sex in Atlanta. Even while in a monogamous relationship, since being poz has always been my biggest fear.

I didn't see or hear from Zimbabwe while in was in ATL. Though now I know why.

Since I have no way to reach him since I don't have his number/email/social media, I did a google search of him days after I returned home from Atlanta.

Nothing really ever comes up whenever I searched him in the past. Besides an old LinkedIn profile that hasn't been touched in years. Though something new did pop up this time. A mugshot.

I was shocked. It was definitely a recent pic. The most recent pic I'd seen of him in years. It said he was arrested in September 2022 for trespassing/public indecency.

I was shocked. Well not about the arrest. He'd been arrested while we were together, and I was freaking out after not hearing from him for over 24 hours. Also I used to search his name while we were together/freshly broken up and so many court dates would pop up for Zimbabwe. Usually unpaid speeding/parking tickets/driving violations. That man would always be in trouble with the law...I do love a bad boy.

I assumed that with the date being September 2022 that this case would've been wrapped up by now, since it was over a year ago. It's October 2023. But then I started to dive deeper down the rabbit hole.

Luckily court documents are public, and you can also search if someone is locked up. I'd never had to search for an inmate before, so this all was new to me. Learning how to look up inmates and court documents. Though I learned quickly, and I learned a lot.

I learned that the arrest was actually for attempting to steal/break into a car and indecent exposure. I'm still confused about this all. I didn't find the arrest report with full details.

My first thought was was he arrested for cruising? That's been happening in ATL lately. Everyone's always fucking in public places in Atlanta. Especially with all the content creators.

But that would explain indecent exposure, but not the attempting to break into/steal someone's car. Like was he trying to break into someone's car naked?

One time Zimbabwe did get pissed about me blogging about us, and he grabbed my laptop and stormed out into the hallway in his underwear threatening to smash my laptop, and we were arguing in the hallway. It was so ghetto.

So maybe he got into a fight with a guy he was seeing, and stormed out while naked/half naked, and tried to break into their car/steal it? Then his dick fell out, and that lead to the indecent exposure?

I have no clue. I want answers! I need to find the full arrest report. I want details!

Then when I really started digging in court records. Zimbabwe wasn't arrested in September 2022, the court records I found said he was arrested in May 2023, and he didn't get out until the Saturday I was in Atlanta.

He was locked up from May to October, for the trying to steal a car and public indecency. Which is crazy. I read his letters to the court, which are publicly available, where he's begging to be released.

Zimbabwe admits to having a mental health issue, which explains a lot. You have to be mentally ill to think it's ok to lie to someone you're dating and pretend to be someone you're not for months. Though he could just be playing that up for sympathy to get released. Bringing up his mental health issues and being a vet. Though I believe it. He always had intense mood swings, and a lot aligns with bipolar disorder. Especially the hypersexual urges, mood swings, violent outbursts, lying for no reason, pretending to be someone he's not, etc...

Though I feel bad for Zimbabwe. I feel bad this is his life currently and what he's going through. Here I was hoping I'd reconnect with my first love, and he's been locked up in Fulton County for months. That jail keeps making headlines for the terrible conditions.

As much as this man has hurt me in the past, I do still care about him. I do still love him, or have love for him. It's just crazy how much can change in 5 years, but also not.

Zimbabwe would always talk down to me when we were together. Like I was a downgrade from his previous bfs since I was broke and struggling too. Granted he got 2 cars repossessed while we were together, and he was homeless, suicidal, and a rock bottom but I still always loved him and was there for him.

It was struggle love, but I definitely was madly in love. I mean on the bright side he's now finally free from jail. Court records still list his case as open, so I don't think he's in the clear yet.

Though 5 months locked up is crazy, but trying to break into/steal a car is a felony charge. The public indecency is just a misdemeanor.

I want to talk to him still. I'm nosy and want his side of everything, but also I do still miss him.

As toxic and tumultuous as my relationship with Zimbabwe was, I did really love that man. I definitely loved him way more than BMore Bae. Zimbabwe is the one that got away in a way. Granted we needed to get away from each other, and with all these issues he's still going through all these years later, I'm glad I got away.

Yet I do always wonder how life would've been had we did continue to date, or if things would've gone differently. Granted he's clearly not matured if he's still getting arrested now like he was 5 years ago, and this time the charges are worse.

So this should be the wakeup call I need to realize that I shouldn't be reminiscing and nostalgic for an ex that literally just got out of jail less than 2 weeks ago.

next // previous

may 28, 2021 2:30 p.m. newcrest counseling center

(tw for violence mention)

[grant] i guess, um...on a related note…

[margot] yes! what are you thinking?

[grant] every time i've talked to her since the night she first told me about all this has been a disaster. we’ve tried talking about it or just talking to each other and...it’s a hot mess.

[margot] in what way?

[grant] just the way she treats me. i already mentioned it earlier but she got mad when i expressed being upset after she broke the news to me. since then, it’s like she’s chasing me around trying to catch me in a conversation to force me to change my mind about things. she's very aggressive about it and acts like she wants me to just gloss over everything and forget it all happened.

[margot] what happened the first time when you were expressing your feelings?

[grant] i don't want to relive the whole thing but let's just say that i told her i was not happy with her and couldn't believe what she did. then i asked if i could leave to be alone for a while and she got, like, outrageously angry.

[grant] and then she, um...she hit me.

[margot] she assaulted you?

[grant] yes.

[grant] she apologized later. and i guess she seemed upset with herself over it. i don’t remember. i blocked it out. a lot of it. i remember everything up to her hitting me and then everything is super fuzzy after that.

[grant] but an apology isn’t really enough. like no, you hit me. and not only did you hit me but you did that totally with the full knowledge that i was physically abused as a child. that shit was targeted. she knew it would freak me out! sorry doesn’t cut it, even if she did feel bad, and it doesn't even matter because her apology was still, you know, like she was trying to convince me to forget it. you know, there’s a reason i refused to break up with her until it got to be too much. i was afraid of her.

[grant] but that’s a different thing. i stood up myself in the end so whatever. i brought this up because i don’t know, i guess because i feel like i didn't get any decent answers out of her ever but i'm also really not sure why she’s acting like this. i've never seen her like this at all. she can be mean but not like this. this is different. i don't understand the cheating and i don't understand all this.

[margot] i think you may have answered your own question.

[margot] it’s very possible she’s actually upset with herself about the cheating and is lashing out to protect herself. and maybe she’s also desperately trying to save the relationship, even if her approach is deeply disturbing. but no matter what her reasoning is, it will never excuse her behavior and i'm horrified to hear she resorted to physical violence. that’s terrible and i am so sorry you experienced that.

[margot] is she still living with you? because–

[grant] i don’t think she’d do it again, if you’re worried about my safety. i really don’t. she’s done some crazy stuff recently but i just can’t see her doing that a second time. she won’t do it after i stood up to her. i know she acted that way because she knows i'm a pushover and she guessed she could get her way with me. i think i proved her wrong.

[grant] but for now, she is still at the house. she said she’d be gone in a few weeks once she got things taken care of. i know if i told like 99% of my friends and family that i didn’t kick her out, they’d think i was delusional, but i'm just not that kind of person. maybe that’s me being a literal doormat in the end anyway but i don’t know. it would be cruel to do that. so what if she’s treated me like shit the last two weeks? i'm not going to stoop to the same level or act like her or whatever. i'm not going to throw her out of the house when she doesn’t have anywhere to go and kind of doesn’t know a single person here in the state of michigan who isn’t my relative or my friend. her people are in another country. she’d be homeless or in a hotel and that’s…

[grant] you know, i still love her. that’s probably obvious. i do love her. i love her enough that i'm completely heartbroken over our relationship even though she’s done everything in the world to run me off. she fucked me over, ruined our relationship all by herself...but i still love her. i didn’t propose to her for nothing. i didn’t get excited about our future and about moving in together for nothing. loving her was something i wanted. and i know enough about her to believe she’s not an evil person. i have zero empathy for my mom but i have it for päivi because i know what the better side of her is like. i also think this version of her right now isn’t her at all. i don’t know what it is but it isn’t her. and, um, sue me, i guess, but i'm not trying to give people a real taste of their own medicine. i want her out of my life immediately so i can heal and move on with life the best i can but i don’t want to ruin her life or hurt her.

[grant] and i'm sure this sounds like i'm completely spineless and a raging idiot and you’d probably disagree with me for saying all this but this is what me making my own decisions looks like. i do want her gone. i will never forgive her. i'm not making excuses for her or letting her get away with cheating and mistreatment. i'm still afraid of her and i don't even know if i can explain how much it hurts to have been betrayed like this. but for my own sake, i'm being as cordial as possible. i don’t want to see her, i don’t want to talk to her, but yelling at her and cutting her out was enough. it doesn’t bring me any joy to lash out at her or get revenge. i just want this to end.

several times in my life - several, as in more than three times - i’ve had it happen that i’ll bend over backwards for a friend, or multiple friends at once, and i go above and beyond the call of duty as far as friendship goes and then when my utility runs out, or i need something in return (in the form of emotional support, i enforce a boundary or something), i am excommunicated. 

that i go above and beyond without being asked is something i pride myself on and that sits well w my spirit, but i also know that it’s a reflection of some seriously deep abandonment issues. im self aware enough to know that i often do this to myself, and that, to a degree, i teach others how to treat me.

one of these instances, i was in high school, and i’d been sent away from my lunch table and my group of friends bc i hadn’t performed socially the way one of them wanted me to (one of them had introduced a bf to the group and we all hung out w him and when asked my opinion of him i was like ‘he seems nice :)’ and that was really all i had to say abt him bc he was a typical teenaged boy and honestly wasn’t even that nice i was just Being Polite and this was apparently so devastating to my friend that all the other friends rallied around her and decided to punish me for being so unkind bc ‘don’t [i] know how much [my] opinion means to her’ ??? so. i am exiled).

during my exile, i went to the art wing for lunch bc i literally had no one to eat or sit w and i may as well. we had sketchbooks we used for the entire school year, it’s where all our art assignments went (i was in an advanced art class and yes we had homework), and it was nearing the end of the school year, so mine was mostly full. i had one homework assignment i was gonna work on over that lunch period - i remember bc it was pointillism and it was coming along really nicely. i went to grab my sketchbook from my designated shelf, and found it was duct-taped shut and had slurs written in sharpie across the cover.

i panicked, tried to get it open without fucking use of fire or something that might compromise the ~8 months of work i had in there, and when i got it open, i found more of the same. all my works had been ruined w insults and slurs, and some of the drawings were just scribbled over boldly w sharpie to make them unusable. 

i don’t have PROOF those girls did that to me, but the insults used and the handwriting was... telling. 

so for the last 15 years, i haven’t let anyone touch my fucking sketchbooks or look at my artwork without explicit permission and without my constant oversight, and i’ve kept in mind that even people i would be ride or die for may not necessarily consider that trait valuable, and more than willing to cast me aside, they may be willing to hurt me if it makes them feel better.

i feel like i smell it in the air. 

i had that sense of foreboding, the same kind i had before i pried my sketchbook open. and listen, maybe that’s the trauma and anxiety disorders talking! sure! but y’know, it’s not the only time that sort of shit has happened to me, 3 or more times, to me, speaks to a pattern. so maybe it’s anxiety, or maybe im seeing a pattern and i Know when something is abt to happen bc it’s happened multiple times before.

i do this thing where i’m like ‘i’ll work really, really hard, i’ll be available MOST of the time, i will extend my emotional bandwidth for you, i’ll help you when times are hard - when your marriage is falling apart, when you’re homeless, when your parent has died - i am ready and willing to do everything in my power to help you however much i can and surely this will make me a Good Friend, and if i am Good Friend, the person i am being a Good Friend to will be a Good Friend back to me.’ 

that’s not necessarily true, i guess. and nothing friendship-ending has happened (yet) but it’s like i feel it in the air. could it be trauma and anxiety informing that feeling? absolutely. ... but also, no one can discount that im batting 1000 as far as friendships failed, dead and gone now, especially the people i’ve broken my back for. 

idk what the point of this is i just had to write out my thoughts i guess

So my friend D, who has been homeless on-and-off for years, who does survival sex to keep a roof over his head, who is HIV positive and doesn't keep up with his fucking meds (istg I'm going to wring his neck) and who has gotten into hard drugs (meaning meth and heroin) is missing. Again. Last time I talked to him he swore he wasn't using, but the last time he told me he wasn't doing drugs was right after he started meth, and he's a shit liar anyway. I know he was doing drugs again. Last time I talked to him he said he had some stuff lined up with psychiatric help that he desperately needs and he was planning to stay out where he is because they have better services than our state (which I kind of doubt, but I'm not using state services so I could be entirely wrong) but that things were getting better. That was back in May. I've messaged him a few times since - calling isn't an option, since he doesn't always have a phone and he can't pay to keep the same number when he can get a phone. And according to his brother, he sold his phone.

His brother, who messaged my brother-in-law to see if we knew ANYTHING about where he might be and what's going on. My family and I do not have a good relationship with D's brother. He's a piece of shit, honestly. He beat the shit out of D when he found out D got into hard drugs despite the fact that he himself deals them. He treated D like trash when he came out. He's got a bunch of other issues that I'm not getting into because it is very much not my white ass's place to unpack his weird internalized racism... anyway, point is, dude sucks and we don't talk to him, my sister and bro-in-law only keep him around as a Facebook friend so that if something happens to D, we'll know because he'll post about it. Except now he's messaging US to see if we know anything about where D is or what's going on.

I just... fuck. At this point I'm used to not being able to get him on the phone. I'm used to sporadic contact that mostly turns into "I'm not dead." But every time it reaches this point, I do wonder if he's dead. If he OD'd, or went home with the wrong guy, or managed to get a car and thought he'd be able to turn his life around because now he could get a job, only to crash the damn thing.

There's not really anything I can do. He's an adult, he chose to go halfway across the country for some reason I don't remember, he's said he's getting help and I hope he is. But knowing what's happened before when he's dropped off the face of the earth and moved several states away with no warning, I'm very concerned for him.

If I didn't have a roommate, if I didn't need to keep having a roommate to afford my damn condo, I'd tell D to just shut the fuck up and move in with me next time I heard from him. A part of me hates that I didn't do that already. I let him crash with me for 3 weeks when he was homeless, unfortunately couldn't let him stay any longer due to rental agreement bullshit, but just...

I can't afford my home without a roommate, or I'd have offered my other room to D, I think. I can't have drugs in my home though, is the only other thing. And I don't believe him when he tells me he's clean. He's a shit liar.

I just really hope he isn't dead, that's all. I just want to hear back from him. And if he needs a place to crash for a few days I'd be happy to offer my couch, I think my roommate would be ok with that.

Most of my friends have done the upward spiral of moving up in the world. My brother-in-law got his massage therapy certification, my sister got her master's degree, other friends have gotten degrees and certifications and moved forward in life. I have too. I've been moving up in my career, in my kinda, getting experience and stuff, doing the adult thing. Buying the condo when my landlord offered to sell it to me. Very privileged to be able to do that even if I need a roommate to make the mortgage.

D hasn't been able to do that.

If I just had the means to fucking fully support myself without a roommate, I could have put D up here. I should have put D up here. I should have told him he could move in with me, everything else be damned.

I swear if we find him again, I want to be more of a resource for him. Let him stay with me for a few days, a week, I don't care. Help him find a fucking support system.

I feel helpless right now.

I've just had the worst morning and I don't know how to go on...

I was shivering cold the entire time. I don't remember how much sleep I got but I do remember tosding and turning. That's always bad news. Then the security guard who had allowed me to use the white spot bench had the worst kind of wake up call, which was just not okay for my personal meeds to wake up slowly. He jammed me into too much full gear, and it really was morning like the promise. But that wasn't even the worst thing.

When I used that bench, I thought that meant I might be sage somewhere. That I could rely on this white spot bench, though were it any other situation, I would not have done this at all. But as I was turning around just to figure out where my lost belongings were...I jyst saw two men carrying off that very bench, and for some ungodly reason they put it somrwhere into the garbage area. It was all too much at once, and now I feel like they want me to kill myself, or I ferl like I want to kill myself. They openly made this action against what I can only know is...me, as a homeless person who never chose this. They openly acted on a petty hatred, as if "oh, we don't want homeless people getting even a shred of safety or security, so we're gonna take away this standin bed now, oh noes mah business." As if they thought I have some incurable disease just by being a homeless person. They are effectively saying through this one motion we hate you and will never support you or treat you like a fair human being if you don't have a house or act like the rest of us. I just...cried real hard a short while ago, then decided to post about it. Being in this destitute life situation, I am beyond comprehending why...what makes people so unpeople-like, when it comes to homelessness? Why do homeless get so...sledgehammered with such cruelty like this, when we are already under so much, no too much loss? Why can't it be enough that I am suffering loss of sleep every cold night, why must you all deepen the knife wound by forcing me to watch my one piece of solace dragged away to never be used by anyone again, let alone me? Why did you all forget that this was for everyone, I knew that too?! Why did this heartbreak have to happen after I used it?! As if...this very act is a victim blaming fabricating of guilt of some kind. They are trying to somehow make ME feel guilty for, what staying out of the cold and getting a safe spot to rest? And none of these individuals were around for me to even speak to about this matter in person, so now I'm stuck with this discomfort in my guts all because of them. EVERYONE, DO NOT GO TO THE WHITE SPOT ON SCOTT ROAD. DO NOT GIVE THEM ANY OF YOUR MONEY OR SUPPORT. THEY DON'T DESERVE IT. THEY ARE OPENLY OPPRRSSIVE TOWARDS THOSE WHO ARE ALREADY AT ROCK BOTTOM DESTITUTION, THEY DO NOT AND LIKELY WILL NEVER CARE ABOUT YOU OVER THEIR SLIMY SELFISH AND NONSENSICAL BUSINESS PRACTISES. God...how can anybody be oppressive and bizarrely cruel towards literal poor people who do not deserve any of it? Like myself, now...

It’s been a long time since I’ve been on here and so much has happened in the last few years. I’ve had so much time to think about a lot. I had time to heal and to self analyze with a lot. I’ve been alone for two and a half years now and it made me realize a lot. Or maybe it’s my depression along with the autism kicking in either way.

I lost so much that I wasn’t expecting to lose, I lost my car, my home, my mom, one of my brothers, a childhood friend that was so much like a sister to me, I almost lost my youngest son. I’ve been put through the wringer and I don’t say that for sympathy’s sake, just stating fact. I grew up alone having to raise my younger brother, taking care of my mom who was sick and an addict and extremely abusive along with a step father who was even more abusive. I saved money in my teen years to get my family out of the desert shack we lived in to get us into town despite everything they put me through and to this day they still haven’t acknowledged this.

I gave up the last of everything I had for a woman that I thought was amazing but turns out she didn’t like that I wanted to be cooperative with my children’s mother for the sake of the kids. I had two friends manipulate that relationship filling that woman’s head with so many doubts and ideas that she ultimately gave me an ultimatum of choosing between cutting out my children’s mother and not seeing them or her. I chose the kids and their mother and I’ve not regretted my decision and there’s a reason for that.

Even after everything we went through, after so many things that after sitting with myself and getting on my own nerves and self reflecting I finally came to the realization that I fucked up everything. I could have treated her so so much better than I did. We did bad things to each other but it’d be a stretch saying I didn’t deserve it. In 2019 when everything finally came to an end, I broke what was left of my heart and lied my ass off telling her that I didn’t love her anymore because I thought she didn’t want me anymore and that wasn’t the case.

To this day after all the thinking I’ve done and all the reflecting I’ve done I wish I could go back and do things so much better, handled things better, been there for her more. A coworker asked me a while ago if she were to come to me and say she wanted to try to work things out again would you do it as a hypothetical and I can honestly say I think I would. I know she wouldn’t because she finally has everything she ever wanted and I’m so happy for her I truly am, it’s all I ever wanted was for her and the kids to be happy. But if I could have one more chance with that goddess of chaos again I would do everything in my power to do things right. I was so young and brought toxic traits with me into our relationship and she did a little too but I’m the one that left. She’s always been so intelligent and hard driven to achieve what she wants, she’s so funny and an incredible mother and I don’t think I ever told her that, at least as much as I should have. But if I’m being honest she’s probably treated me the best out of anybody I’ve ever been with, at least she left me the apartment when we separated so I wouldn’t be homeless and could see our kids. But she was the only one who ever told me this (and to this day I still don’t know if she meat this or if she’d remember this) we were in the shower one day and I had to ask her “how did I end up with someone as gorgeous and as amazing as you? And I’ll always remember this, she put her hands on my face and forced me to look her in the eye and told me “I feel safe and secure with you and you’re an amazing dad to my son and you will be to our next one when he’s born”. I’ve never forgotten that and it’s always stuck with me. I never stopped loving her or the kids, and I don’t think I ever will, and I honestly feel that’s why I’ve chosen to stay single because if someone is going to make me choose over my kids than what’s to stop someone else from doing it again. I rather be there for my kids and if I have to be for her to and she’ll never know any of this but that’s ok, she doesn’t need to. I’m so sorry for how things got between us but at least they’ve gotten better lately. I just hope you don’t hate me forever. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t give you everything you wanted and that I promised, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t be how I am now back then after all the changes I’ve made. I really hope in full sincerity that you’re happy. And on a side note, with dark eyeliner and the right shade of lipstick she looks like the actress Eva Green.