Just whatever random thoughts that I get. A lot of it is media stuff, and there's a little social justice but not near enough for me to feel like I'm doing my part but I'm working on that! Also sometimes I feel depressed so there will be angst-filled posts as well sorry. I tend to go through stages with stuff, obsessing over it and then ignoring it for a while so deal with it. And um thanks for stopping by I guess?
Cisgendered, female, 19, somewhere between bi and pansexual (it's hard to explain), demisexual, polyamorous
AIM: Katrani Merack (might be registered on search as just Katrani or KatMerack)
more of lianna’s life, 2/???
this takes place way before that first one. like ten years before, jumping to when she meets asheron instead of when she says good-bye. xP
in which kat comes up with way too detailed backstory for a tabletop game character and needs to actually write out scenes- so part 1/???
if elli gets tattered slippers then kenan gets “to far away times”
note to self: ocr “tattered slippers” is elli’s song
She wanted hot chocolate in summer and ice cream in winter. She would stay in her stifling room in July and in the chilled basement during December. She hibernated when it was warm and pulled all-nighters in the cold.
She was just that sort of person, no reason for it. Maybe it was her own little rebellion, since she never did anything to cross any lines. Or tried not to, anyways. She built up these rules for herself and could never ever ever break them, but she never made rules about where to go within the house or what to eat so long as it was available.
Or maybe she would just rather have more comfort in the summer. She couldn’t be around the ones she wanted to be, so she put herself in a space that was all her own without anyone else intruding. She had allergies, and needed something that would slide down her throat easily. She dwelt on everything, so needed to do whatever she could not to think.
By now all of it was just learned habits, and no changing it.
Outside was dangerous.
Outside was where all the liars were. The kidnappers, the bullies, the strangers that she should never ever talk to.
But outside also had the wind, and greenery, and fireflies, and sunsets and swimming. Inside had games, yes, but outside had jump rope and kickball. Reading could be done in either. Outside had rain and thunder and inside it was always too cold.
Still, outside was risky. She’d rather stay where she knew she was safe. She had her comforts and didn’t have to worry about anything.
That was, unless her dad was angry. Unless she was hurt, unless she was feeling upset and couldn’t voice it because any badness in here became stifling instead of drifting away. She quashed things down so they didn’t escape, let words lash against her ears and curled up as small as she could and stayed as far out of the way as possible.
It took years for her to notice the door was never- had never been- locked.
She couldn’t see a thousand. It was a huge number, way too much to actually realize. Her mind, never very numbers-aligned, couldn’t even begin to process what it might manifest as.
But she could feel it. She could feel the thousand hairline fractures on each of the thousand pieces of her heart, which was just one of a thousand pieces of her spirit. She could see them all crowded together, and instead of becoming a blank mass, she could pick out which were caused by her mother being a total bitch and which her dad’s mixed signals and which were her bullies and which were society’s and which were her own.
She couldn’t see a thousand, but she could hear it. She could hear every one of a thousand doubts, a thousand criticisms. She could hear a thousand pent-up screams and voice a thousand hoarse cries.
She wanted to see them, though. Because maybe if she could see a thousand, she could see where they started, see them fade. Maybe if she could see them, she could actually tell them to go away and move on.
Maybe she could start her thousand miles.
She was never angry. She would get upset, and cry, and yell, and scream, but she never actually got angry.
At least, not unless it was at herself.
She would make a comment, and get a look, and her thoughts would become a chorus of silent screeches. She would send a message, and suddenly start shaking at how monumentally stupid it had been. She would want to call someone, and punch her pillow because she had no right to talk to them at this time of night, when she knew they were with other people. She would look at the scale and tear out her hair to try and get rid of that extra digit.
Even as she progressed, these sorts of things becoming easier for her to manage, she would still have her tantrums. She knew this was a bad emotion, so she couldn’t direct it at anyone else. She just felt even more anger to herself when she did.
This was all she had. At the least though, living anger was better than stagnant depression or simple frustration.
She would just deal with it for now.
It always amazed her, how much more vibrant sunsets were than sunrise. Endings weren’t often like that, were they? Births were met with lengthy pain that changed to joy, and deaths were sudden instances that became horrible pain.
She lay against the grass, watching the red fade into pink and then the rich violet that would become nighttime’s blue. This was much better than the morning’s simple red and pale blue. She pillowed her head on her hands, and grinned at the first few pinpricks of starlight appearing.
Maybe her own ending could be grand, like a sunset. But how could that be managed? People would be hurt if she just disappeared, and she didn’t want that.
She sat up again, shaking her head. This was silly. She’d come out here just to get away for a bit. She didn’t need to question things like endings and starts. She just needed to enjoy the moment. And for that, this sunset, with the wind gently passing by and the sound of crickets and the fireflies making her think there were close stars…
This was the perfect moment to just experience.