i’ve been, i’ve felt, i am

i’m only fifteen years old.

i’ve been depressed, i’ve been anxious, i’ve been to therapy.

i’ve lost grandparents, i’ve gained cousins.

i’ve been through pink and red and purple and black.

i’ve gone through dance, martial arts, piano, violin, poetry, computer programming.

i’ve been through math and science and history and monotony.

i’ve tried music, words, and everything in between and outside of those.

i’ve been athletic, i’ve been out of shape, i’ve been self conscious.

i’ve been through experiments with this shirt and that mascara.

i’ve been through giving up and grabbing a sweatshirt to cover everything up.

i’ve spent time in front of the mirror pinching this and prodding that and covering that other thing up.

i’ve spent too many nights crying into my bed sheets.

i’ve been happy and weird, but mostly i’ve been sad.

i’ve been troubled and stressed and “acting out”.

i’ve been the rebel, the black sheep, the one who talks too much about things that matter.

i’ve been called into the office out of concern for my mental health.

i’ve been through pitying smiles and concerned shoulder pats and “if you need to talk”.

i’ve been a terrible person and hidden all of that away to avoid the strange looks.

i’ve seen families divorce and friends move away.

i’ve seen people fall through the black hole of suicide, only to return without a scratch.

i’ve sat through countless tennis practices and softball games i never wanted to be at.

i’ve been through “i’m better” and “you do it” and “stop”.

i’ve been proud, i’ve been loving, i’ve been a good sister.

i’ve been stressed, depressed, and generally obsessed.

i’ve spent countless nights letting the music drown out my brain because i couldn’t shut it off long enough to sleep more than 4 hours a night.

i’ve been through doctor’s appointments and therapy appointments and a mother who refuses to listen to me.

i’ve been through ocd, anxiety, obscure deficiencies, depression, stress.

i’ve been through shouting matches and slamming doors.

i’ve been through punk and emo and alt and classic rock.

i’ve been through black days and plaid days and yellow days and blue ones.

i’ve been through youth group and church and sleeping in because i can.

i’ve been through “i’m worried about you” and “stop reading that” and “why can’t you just listen?”

i’ve been misunderstood, misjudged, misappropriated.

i’ve been through happy and sad and ripped denim jackets.

i’ve been alone in my room, watching doctor who on my bed, crying into my blankets.

i’ve been alone.

i’ve felt 10 years older than my age.

i’ve felt tried and tested and everything in between.

i’ve felt over with.

i’ve felt used up and beat down and dragged around.

i’ve been on the floor, half dressed, unable to move.

i’ve felt running mascara, wet pages, stained clothes.

i’ve been put down for believing in something really and truly.

i’ve been on stage and off stage and backstage and tired.

i’ve been judged, nicknamed, put away for later use.

i’ve felt tired.

i’ve felt bleak.

i’ve felt dredged out and embarrassed and done with life.

i’ve been an actor, feminist, poet, student, sister.

i’ve been a writer.

i’ve been looked up at and looked down on and told to others to look up to.

i’ve been through considering ending it all.

i’ve been through so much.

i’ve finally started to feel a little bit better.

i’m only fifteen.

why steven moffat is ruining my life

**warning, sherlock spoilers

if you’re in a fandom or associated with tumblr, you’ve probably heard of steven moffat. if you haven’t, here’s a rundown on his significance to society:

he’s the executive producer, writer, and creator of multiple british television shows, the most significant being doctor who and sherlock.

as it so happens, i watch both of these shows.

this happens to be a very unfortunate coincidence for me, as both of these shows will, in simple terms, cause you to feel all of the feels.

as in all of them.

every single one.

just recently, the sherlock christmas special was released. i didn’t have the opportunity to watch this until just a few days ago, and oh my f***ing god it was horrible and amazing and so many things in between. 

here’s a rundown on why i felt all of these emotions… and more.

  1. i went into this episode thinking it was just going to be a normal, nice christmas special with no connection to the plot and taking place entirely during the time of victorian england. but noooooooo. about 3 quarters of the way through the episode, sherlock wakes up from the mind palace he has apparently been in the entire time, only to be on the plane we left him on at the end of season three.
  2. mary. just, mary everything. mary pregnant. mary caring about sherlock’s well-being. mary getting frustrated with mycroft. mary and john kind of sort of getting along. mary dressing like my great-grandmother and not giving any shits. mary hacking into government databases without a blink of an eye. just… mary.
  3. mycroft. also, basically everything about mycroft. the fact that in his mind, sherlock created mycroft as this fat, lazy, gambling-with-his-own-life sort of character made me laugh so hard because that’s how sherlock purposefully created him. also, caring mycroft with red beard written in his notebook, with a pile of lists that come falling out of his notebook as well. mycroft who cares about his drug addict little brother, mycroft who knows exactly what to do and how to do it because he’s been in this situation before, seeing sherlock high and overdosed.
  4. john. john with a mustache. john having no idea how to do sign language, john without a clue as to what’s going on throughout the whole investigation. john seeing molly when sherlock didn’t, because even the most observant person can pass on the details so easily. john who doesn’t like dead bodies. john who cares about sherlock more than anything in the world, even as much as his own wife. john who knew sherlock had a drug problem, but never realized how much of a problem it really was.
  5. mind palace john having actual emotions, despite him being a product of sherlock’s subconscious.
  6. mind palace moriarty ending the same way every time, until sherlock finally pushes him instead of the other way around.
  7. sherlock leaving the mind palace by jumping from the actual reichenbach falls. like seriously, why must you make me feel these things.
  8. feminist molly.
  9. seriously though, feminist everything. the secret society made up completely of women who wanted equality for the way they were treated, and how sherlock didn’t dare tell anyone about them, as he knew they were right. feminist molly living as a man so she could make her own future. feminist everything.
  10. and, finally: victorian sherlock actually being a mind palace and then not actually and then yes again, and then plane sherlock actually being real life and then not and then yes again and then actually being a mind palace, and then sherlock actually being in a hospital bed but is he, because for all we know he could actually be victorian sherlock with a mind palace of the future and are we all fake? quite possibly because what if we’re all actually sherlock and he’s imagining us watching him go in and out of mind palaces and he made up the tv show and sherlock is actually moffat creating his own mind palace and putting us all in it to suffer because he hates everyone and wants us all to suffer. am i real? is my laptop that i’m writing this on real? is anything real? how do i even know? how do i know that anything’s real anymore? is moffat actually god putting us through lots of feelings? how should i know? i’m just as confused as everyone else.