I'm walking home from a neighbor's house, the one that is friends with my mom, the one that coached me with public speaking and got me to nationals as a kid, the one that surprised me with a scholarship when I graduated high school. It's a slightly chill evening and it's beautiful.
(We had been talking about my resumé and how I could improve it. We workshopped both that and my portfolio, and discussed possibilities of studies abroad, and swapped stories on things we missed from each other's lives now that I live hundreds of miles away.)
Now I'm walking home in the chill blue evening and I walk past my neighbor's house, the one with the chihuahuas, the one that over a decade ago rescued me when I got my pants caught in my bike chain and fell, trapped. Never met me in my life but when I fell in front of her house she came running out to help my small crying self.
And now I'm walking past my neighbor's house, the pale blue one on the corner, the neighbor that had a tire swing even though she was elderly, the place my family would go on walks to when I was a kid so the kids could play on her tire swing while the grownups talked. That tree died eventually, and my dad helped her cut it down. She gave him the tire swing to take home to us kids.
Over there across the way is my neighbor's house, the one that is good friends with my grandma and paid me to water her plants whenever she went away for a week. I see her husband from time to time out in the garage when I pass their place.
Over just a little bit farther is the orange house that looks like a castle, with the neighbors who had daughters just older than my sister and I, daughters who always gathered up their old clothing into giant bags to drop at our doorstep so my sister and I could have new clothing. A treasure. Their mom came to my graduation and got me a gift.
Now I'm walking down the road and there are the neighbors right next to us, with the small loud dogs, the neighbors that know my dad well. He always has my brothers over to do yard work and the such. Dad loves sending over the boys to collect leaves in the autumn from our neighbors - most of them are elderly and can use the help, and my dad collects truckfuls of leaves to compost for his garden. A win-win.
And there at the end, of course, are my neighbors who always loved to see us each Halloween. They were always prepared for us, always the first ones we saw. My youngest brother always took care of their dog. When our dog got out, that neighbor let us know and we were able to get her before she got too far away.
We were generations apart, my neighbors and I. Yet that never stopped them from loving my family and me.
I hope they know the fond love I have for them now, despite no longer living there.
I would also like to introduce the concept of touch ARFID. You finally get out of touch starvation but actually it's only okay if it's like. One person specifically. Perhaps two, or five, but any person not on your safe touch list and you will get nauseous, you will get so revoltingly sick, and you know you have to expand your palate and just "not be bothered" by the occasional shoulder tap of an unsafe touch person because normal people are fine with it why can't you be? but it makes you so violently sick to your stomach and you curl up and do anything to make that touch go away, it wasn't meant to affect you but here you are
It took you so long to get accustomed to each new person you integrated into your safe persons list. It was agonizing at first but it was something you were willing to do because of all you'd been through together, the two of you, and you trust them to the end of the earth, and over time their touch became as dear to you as their presence.
But any of these other "normal" people? Forget it
touch-starvation needs to be written with emphasis on the starving part. you are hungry to be touched. so hungry that even the very taste of it makes you nauseous. it has been long since anything has ever touched you, ever fed you - that your body has grown more used to that gnawing emptiness more than anything else. it's better for you to be held, to eat but it makes you sick to try. you know
Oh yeah! Storytime!
So my dear best friend took me out thrifting at the end of the semester because she wanted better fighting pants and I told her I had never been thrifting before. Away we went even though I had basically no money. I set myself an amount I could spend.
We get there and look around pants for a bit, find some, then have a bit of time before swordfighting to explore. I want her to show me everything she would show someone who hasn't been thrifting. (We found some awesome knickknacks in the back as well as heck cheap books and DVDs. I even found 3 Baby Einstein DVDs. But I digress.)
Well, apparently you can't go thrifting without checking out the shirts. So we're perusing shirts that feel nice and out of nowhere,
Remember how I said my Dad had this weird thing for the Hawkeye show? It's a Christmas tradition at our house by his insistence.
Now this is a women's small or medium shirt. Obviously not going to fit my dad. So I weigh the pros and cons. Ask my brother. He responds with "dude get one for me" (this is a thrift store and I think it's handmade but we won't tell him that) so I take that as a green light. If Dad doesn't want it, at least my beanpole of a brother will rock it.
And, come on, it's 3 dollars.
me and my ace backlit keyboard 🟪🟣💜🖤⚫♣️♠️🟪◾◼️▪️✒️🖤🩶🤍💜▫️◻️◽🎵🎶⚪⬜🔳🪨🌫️🌪️🪽🎹⌨️💿☂️🌂⛓️📎🖇️📓📄✉️🔮🎵🎶🎼➰
🎼🌫️◻️🎵♣️🖇️🪽🔮📓💿📄☂️
gUYS my grandma just sent me pictures she took of foxes playing in her snow-covered yard and they're the most precious things everrr I just wanted to tell someone :)
Okay thanks for your input, NORRINGTON
we need to invent some actually nuclear discourse so this fandom can thrive again I miss potcconfessions jack sparrow is homophobic week that was such a good one
Switching between these every day
"I'll come back to edit it in December" no. no I wont. but that doesn't stop me from lying to myself.
keep a couple stars under my pillow for the 🌌starman🌠
keep a little mail under my pillow for the 🎵mailmannn🎵
here to explore (you can call me music, pronouns I'll leave up to you!)
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