Myllady

“He imagined having a home to go to at the end of the day where he could rest. It was like a lump in his throat, the idea of going home. Home. Where his worst worry would be what’s for dinner. Where he’d be able to go to his room and lay on his bed without being afraid of it, where he’d be able to go online or play video games and then do his homework at his own pace, where he’d be safe, where he’d be lov—”
― Marina Vivancos, In This Iron Ground

“doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense, or you don’t agree that it should be there or perhaps just don’t understand why it is. What helps you process it is saying, ‘Okay. This sucks, but you’re here. I’m not sure why, but I’m allowed to experience negative emotions, even when they don’t make sense to me or when I don’t want them. It’s okay. Feeling this is unpleasant, but it’s okay’. You need to accept fully—this is happening. Do you think that, now that you know more about why you would feel like that after praise, it may be easier to accept it when it happens?” “I mean…yeah, in a way, but I’m not sure that’s actually gonna make me feel better. And I know! I know what you’re going to say. Sometimes it’s about not having the emotion escalate and…okay, yeah. It might do that but…urgh. I just…hate that it happens.” “And so you should. It absolutely sucks. But don’t indulge in the hate so far that it causes you to reject the emotion. Accepting that the emotion is there is a necessary part of dealing with it. ‘Okay, you’re here. I’m allowed to feel this, even if I don’t want to. Now I can deal with the actual emotion instead of focusing on the situation and how fair or unfair it is or worrying about the impact of the emotion as if I can tell the future. All I can do is what I can do right now, and what my body is telling me it needs right now is comfort and care so…comfort and care it is’! And onto one of your coping mechanisms.”
― Marina Vivancos, All That Has Flown Beyond

“Kaiyo lay in bed and thought about taking a shower. He could see each step unfurling before him. How he would have to make all his muscles move to drag himself out of bed. How he would have to get up, undress, walk to the bathroom. How he would have to turn the water on and wait for it to heat. How he would have to step under the spray, wash his hair, his body, his soul. How he would somehow have to find the will to get out of the warmth again. How he would have to dry himself, dress himself, have his reflection waiting for him behind the mist on the mirror. How his hair would be wet and chill the nape of his neck. That last detail got stuck in his mind. How that would feel, that dripping wetness. The inconvenience of it. On top of everything else, it seemed utterly unimaginable to deal with. Each imagined step weighed him down. It was a series of fragments to make an impossible whole. Suddenly, the rest of his life stretched out before him, a series of impossible steps. Step after step in action after action after action. How he would have to get up every single morning and go to class and complete his projects. How he would have to think about what he wanted to do with his life. How he would have to find a job and work and make money. How he would have to go to the grocery store and cook and eat. How he would have to talk to people and build bridges and live with the fear that they would break. Every day he would have to exist. There would be no respite from himself. Existing was a series of exhausting steps. His head filled with the thought of having another emotion, of having to contend with his morality, with his conscience, with having to have a sense of purpose. He couldn’t breathe. Everything was so unimaginably exhausting. The nothingness around him was almost better. The absence of feeling, of motivation, of self. He closed his eyes, and for the very first time, the thought of just stopping, stopping it all once and for all, entered his mind with shape and substance. He would do it, he thought. He would do it…if suicide weren’t another intolerable series of steps.”
― Marina Vivancos, All That Has Flown Beyond

“Before, when he lived with his parents, even though he’d had his own room, it hadn’t felt like home either. He’d still contorted himself—only those had been psychic contortions. The kind that made you smaller and smaller until you threatened to disappear if you didn’t get out. So he had.”
― Roan Parrish, Best Laid Plans