Am in hospital because I’ve got shingles down my right leg and up my back. I can’t walk, and when I do it’s like I’m a toddler.
Anyway, everybody say I made it happen cause apparently I’m so “stressed”. So what? I’m always having a ‘medical’ emergency. Yay I get another month to live and even more delightful tablets to take! It’s normal for me, I’m used to it as I’ve done this shit since I was five, I don’t KNOW anything else!
This morning I woke up in a…. Well, a depressed mood. I’m crying every three minutes over nothing.
They have put me on pain medication that’s making me so damn high, I’m hallucinating my pets are with me. A few nights ago I thought my bird Oscar was with me, and we have a routine of talking, whistles then crazy sounds until he gets more quiet then I say ‘love you, baby boy’ and he answers with a raspberry and then goes to sleep.
Apparently I was doing it in ICU and the nurse asked me what I was doing and I told her ‘saying goodnight to my baby coeur, Oscar.’ And it was then I realized I was in hospital with no one to talk to.
Mum visits for an hour or two. Dad came in once and was fidgety the whole time, a few good friends have been in contact with texts and Facebook wishes for good health.
It’s just the friends I thought were there for me haven’t even texted me in weeks and it really fucking hurts. Yes I understand I’m contagious and you have a baby, but we could text.
And I miss my pets so damn much, I WANT Honey-Bunny stretched out along my chest and belly, snoring and dreaming of her next meal. And I NEED Jack-Jack at the end of my bed since he was a pup and doing his best to lay on my feet then giving a content groan and I groan at him and he stretches out and when he sees me he gives two tail thumps of love. They take the fear of dying in my sleep away because it’s ME they want to snuggle up to, not my parents, or my brother, but me. Where I am, they are. Either sleeping or sniffing for nonexistent food. And Oscar yelling ‘Out! Out! Out!’ When they start misbehaving during the night.
Problem is, I can’t go home as my dad hasn’t even had chicken pox. And I’d rather be in hospital anyway.
honestly i hate when people try to sugar coat shit like if you don’t like me or don’t wanna hang or don’t wanna talk to me just fucking tell me don’t keep ignoring me and expect me to figure out the hint like that’s such a bitch ass move i’d rather hear it from you than be ignored 99% of the fucking time.
if you ever see me out in public wearing a fandom related t-shirt you have my permission to come up to me and geek out about it. though be warned, several hours of fandom discussion may ensue after initial contact is made.
aromantic wizards being absolutely immune to amortentia, it only smelling like the ingredients put into it when they smell it, and teaching other students how to identify the stuff on any food or drink
This was recorded by the Portsmouth Sinfonia in an experiment where all the members of the orchestra would swap instruments with each other and attempt to play them to the best of their ability.
favorite things about this
literally all the brass starts to get the hang of it and then the crescendos happen and everyone is like FUCK FUCK FUCK??? FUCK. JUST. BLOW RLY HARD.
the strings are lazy but also the same. like u can tell a lot of the ppl w/ the stringed instruments may already basically know how to play stringed instruments. like there’s definitely a section at the beginning where you hear a good portion going “oh yeah this is like. a smaller/bigger version of what i do.”
all you hear of any woodwinds is just “pffffttt??? pFFFTTTT???? PFFFFFTTTT I SAID PFFFFTTTT!!!!!” bc woodwinds are fucking HARD and you hear after like the first crescendo half of them just give up. they give up. they’re done. fuck this it tastes weird and my lips hurt.
that trumpet. that person is fucking TRYING man they fucking GOT this. they may not have figured out notes but they figured out LOUD and they GOT this.
““Depression is not beautiful poetry and sympathy from loved ones and a beautiful girl crying in the middle of the night while her boyfriend holds her and whispers “I love you” over and over again. Depression is not dead flowers and lana del rey music and dark eyeliner and lipstick smearing your face as you cry in a dirty bathtub smeared with your own blood. Depression is a foul taste in your mouth and smell in your room because you don’t care enough to take a shower or brush your teeth. Depression is longing for the days you cry because feeling something is better than feeling nothing and being sad is better than the blunt anxiety that is a constant in the back of your mind. Depression is watching your friends slip away because you don’t care enough to call them or see them and in turn feeling lonely and ignored because it feels like they don’t care enough to call you or see you. Depression is watching your grades plunge because how can you care about them when you don’t even care if you live or die? Depression is having your teachers and your parents call you lazy and unmotivated and a deadbeat because of these grades and because your illness is so blind to them you have trouble convincing even yourself that it exists. Depression is your back aching from staying in bed for hours a day, hoping you can live out your life in bed until you don’t have to live anymore. Depression is staying up until five a.m. watching tv because if you turn everything off you will be alone with your thoughts and there is nothing on earth worse than that. Depression is groaning in disappointment and anxiety when you wake up the next morning. Depression is praying yet again that night that you don’t wake up. Depression is not romantic. It is not beautiful. It is disgusting, empty, ugly. It is a pain so deep and long lasting you forget how you ever were without it.” In honour of robin Williams”—Anonymous (via fixedpenny)
I *love* role-playing John Watson, to either a female or male Sherlock, but I also have a bit of an obsession with John getting hurt/injured/sick/fake death blah blah blah, basically horrific whumpage to our little army doctor. Emotionally is good, physically is fantastic.
If John isn’t suffering in one way or the other, I’m not 100% happy. The ONLY thing I cannot (and will not) write is anything with rape. I could do a storyline, but the incident wouldn’t be written as… Well, to me using the ‘sexually assaulted victim/survivor’ is a little over-done, but I also find that it can cause tension in RP friendships.
Okay… So, if you’re interested in doing RPs with me where John suffers (Sherlock can as well!!) then drop me a line. I don’t mind doing Teenlock, femlock, kidlock. Alpha/Omega (John being Omega).
They don’t even have to be together, I can do friendships too. But Mary and Harry will be added when/if needed.
And sometimes I can be a bit graphic, just a warning. Oh, and I’m a shit-head with medical stuff as I’ve basically grown up in hospital due to kidney issues and 3 kidney transplants.
So…. Ok, that’s my advertisement for Johnlock RP.
Yeah, so if interested then we can discuss plots and such and I’ll start the email RP
How has anyone who doesnt know this survived this long?
I’m 27 and didn’t know until a year or so ago… I survived by using digital watches and such. But I bought a book and had a friend teach me, I still take a few minutes to get the time (like I have to count in 5’s for the minutes), but I’m getting there.
Main reason I didn’t learn was because I missed a heap of primary school from being in hospital and teachers, instead of helping, found it more funny and didn’t/couldn’t be bothered to help.