FemaleJunior THALIA COSTAS
Aug 20, 2024 8:19:29 GMT -7
Admin Adira, ADMIN ÁINE, and 2 more like this
Post by THALIA COSTAS on Aug 20, 2024 8:19:29 GMT -7
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The girl next door. [break][break]
She's sunny, sweet, like fresh morning spring dew. She's the first cool breeze of summer, the rustling of leaves above. She's the sun shining midday, with a few clouds in the sky to keep you from boiling alive. She's the sunshine that supports, encourages and lifts up anyone's mood when she enters a room. She's optimistic and lively, absolutely lovely to be around. She's filled with positivity, but not sickeningly sweet. She's down to earth, understanding and kind, but she isn't a pushover. She's confident in her academics and sports and she's everyone's hype woman. She loves gossip and she loves romance and she squeals over cute boys like all other girls do. She's childish and a little silly, sometimes, but it adds to her relatable charm. She's a little clumsy, a little ditzy and a little absentminded, but she always means well. [break][break]
She's the girl everyone knows, and the girl no one knows about. [break][break]
Her happiness, energy and positivity are all genuine. Her friendliness and inclusiveness is never a ploy, nor does she ever have ulterior motives. She's genuine and dependable when it counts and when it matters, like the big sister you can talk to. Yet despite her being the friend people talk to, no one knows much about her - and that's because she doesn't know much about herself. Thalia has crafted and curated herself to be the best of herself she can be, believing that if you wear a mask for long enough, you can become it. [break][break]
She's introverted, tired of the attention. She's stubborn, hard working and maybe a little petty, but she wouldn't be able to tell you this. Her sense of identity is fractured and disturbed with little idea of what she actually wants or desires, making her aimless and flighty. Sudden loud noises make her cringe and jump, she doesn't know how to respond to yelling directed at her. She freezes up in fear when there's a pit in her stomach and her eyes go vacant in the face of adults and authority. She pushes her sadness and her anger away, bottling them up until she breaks behind closed doors. She never wants to be a burden for herself, never realizing that she's pushing away the people who want to get to know her. [break][break]
She's optimistic, but never about herself or her own life. She'll say she is, though, and it makes her a liar. She insists that she's just a lil blip in someone's life in the grand scheme of things and puts herself down, her value is never the same as another's, she always thinks of herself as lesser. She's a hypocrite, telling someone to treasure the beauty of life and the bright future, while she doesn't believe in those words for herself. She wants everyone to take care of themselves and to be safe. She doesn't want anyone to be hurt and wants everyone to graduate, and yet she doesn't think she'll live past twenty five.[break][break]
Of course, she doesn't want anyone to know. No one will know, and she will live alone with these dark thoughts.
The girl next door. [break][break]
She's sunny, sweet, like fresh morning spring dew. She's the first cool breeze of summer, the rustling of leaves above. She's the sun shining midday, with a few clouds in the sky to keep you from boiling alive. She's the sunshine that supports, encourages and lifts up anyone's mood when she enters a room. She's optimistic and lively, absolutely lovely to be around. She's filled with positivity, but not sickeningly sweet. She's down to earth, understanding and kind, but she isn't a pushover. She's confident in her academics and sports and she's everyone's hype woman. She loves gossip and she loves romance and she squeals over cute boys like all other girls do. She's childish and a little silly, sometimes, but it adds to her relatable charm. She's a little clumsy, a little ditzy and a little absentminded, but she always means well. [break][break]
She's the girl everyone knows, and the girl no one knows about. [break][break]
Her happiness, energy and positivity are all genuine. Her friendliness and inclusiveness is never a ploy, nor does she ever have ulterior motives. She's genuine and dependable when it counts and when it matters, like the big sister you can talk to. Yet despite her being the friend people talk to, no one knows much about her - and that's because she doesn't know much about herself. Thalia has crafted and curated herself to be the best of herself she can be, believing that if you wear a mask for long enough, you can become it. [break][break]
She's introverted, tired of the attention. She's stubborn, hard working and maybe a little petty, but she wouldn't be able to tell you this. Her sense of identity is fractured and disturbed with little idea of what she actually wants or desires, making her aimless and flighty. Sudden loud noises make her cringe and jump, she doesn't know how to respond to yelling directed at her. She freezes up in fear when there's a pit in her stomach and her eyes go vacant in the face of adults and authority. She pushes her sadness and her anger away, bottling them up until she breaks behind closed doors. She never wants to be a burden for herself, never realizing that she's pushing away the people who want to get to know her. [break][break]
She's optimistic, but never about herself or her own life. She'll say she is, though, and it makes her a liar. She insists that she's just a lil blip in someone's life in the grand scheme of things and puts herself down, her value is never the same as another's, she always thinks of herself as lesser. She's a hypocrite, telling someone to treasure the beauty of life and the bright future, while she doesn't believe in those words for herself. She wants everyone to take care of themselves and to be safe. She doesn't want anyone to be hurt and wants everyone to graduate, and yet she doesn't think she'll live past twenty five.[break][break]
Of course, she doesn't want anyone to know. No one will know, and she will live alone with these dark thoughts.
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tw: child abuse/neglect, suicide ideation and depressive episodes
[break][break]
You weren't wanted. [break][break]
Or, no. You were wanted, once upon a time. Your mother was only twenty-one when she had you, a spontaneous decision made by her to keep your father tied down. She wasn't okay, you learned, and even less equipped to be a parent. Neither of your parents were prepared with the responsibility, so it surprised no one when your relatives found you ditched at another one of your parents' friends place to be babysat. It never surprised any of them to hear that they wouldn't be back to pick you up for days, and surprised no one when those friends desperately called your parents to take you home. [break][break]
They only held you when it was convenient, like you were a pet to coo over briefly before going back to their frat tendencies. Your father's family couldn't stand seeing you being treated the way you were, and it was their pity that took you in. At six months, you could barely raise your head. At two years, you couldn't even crawl. You went from babbling and rolling to standing up, then tripping over your legs due to poor motor skills. The caveat was that your family told you that you picked up language and conversation quickly, always listening to family conversations like they were the most entertaining things ever. Your extended family, still, fondly recalls how you'd laugh and clap in the middle of conversation. [break][break]
Mother was barely in your life now, and departs when you're three - you barely remember her face. Father is never home, still indulging in his frat tendencies. Lack of parents aside, you think (and tell yourself) that you grew up... pretty well? Your grandparents, though struggling with English, did their best to teach you by buying workbooks and your relatives pitched in to help you attend a private pre-school to catch up with your peers. Though you lacked the love and stability of an orthodoxic family, you grew to view your grandmother and grandfather as your parents - though it would concern your teachers when you drew grandma and grandpa for mother and father's day instead of your biological parents. Early years of teacher-parent nights were a little awkward.[break][break]
Your father remarries when you're four. Initially, you're happy to see another person in the family, and you refer to her as "mom". She is warned by everyone that, if she wanted to marry your father, she had to love you like her own daughter. She swore, yet her jealousy would always get the better of her. It only amplified after she bore your brother, younger by four years. Unlike you, he struggled with languages. He struggled with talking, struggled to babble and develop. Your family learns he's on the spectrum, and he needs some extra help at school. [break][break]
Unfortunately, it set him up for ridicule from your family - specifically due to the lack of understanding. He struggled to learn Greek and English and, for the sake of simplicity, he only learned English. You were forced into the position of translator. Your brother grew dependent on you, as you were the translator and you quickly became his primary caretaker - your step mother was the main breadwinner and was never home. Your father still had drinking and frat tendencies. [break][break]
She tried to love you, you understand, but the frustration and jealousy erupted sometimes. You were the praised child and the golden kid who showed so much more promise than your brother. At the same time, you were the doomed, tragic child because of who your parents were. You found yourself in a position where you couldn't be too outstanding. When you took martial arts, you were barred from the exam if your brother didn't qualify. You weren't allowed to ascend in piano lessons if your brother wasn't the same level. You couldn't get your lifeguard certification because your brother wasn't able to pass his class. Although everyone outside was impressed by your skills and your quick learning, you found yourself shackled to your brother - much as you loved him. [break][break]
As a sister, you resigned. [break][break]
You deserved this, you thought. Your deserved it when your step mother yelled at you and berated you, or put you down for slipping grades. She would downplay achievements while cooing over her son, and you didn't have to be grown to notice the rift between the two of you. You deserved it when she would egg on your father and his poor temper management, deserved it when he was the one who would start beating you. You deserved it when had the chance to participate in a competition and won gold, yet scolded when it was only narrowly won. You thought you deserved it when the world was expected from you - you thought you deserved it when you were punished for delivering the heavens. [break][break]
You hid the bruises at school. You'd laugh with the other students and your friends for what little time you spent with them. There was always family drama you were too young to understand, prompting your family to move further and further from other relatives until you were all cut off. Isolated, your father's temper got worse. Isolated, your step-mother got more daring. Again, they would never hit your face. Again, they told you that if you told the police, you'd be breaking the family apart. You would be the reason, you would be the bane of their existences. You learned to detach yourself from their screams and arguments and learned to wear a blank stare to the ground as they yelled; you learned that it made them stop sooner. At ten, you learned the bliss of silence. [break][break]
You became sensitive and overly critical of yourself. If someone at school mentioned something, you freaked out a little bit. They'd look at you funny, then it wouldn't be long for you to be alienated. Kids, you learned, were nasty when you were a transfer student. You thought time and time again that maybe this time will be different, but it only got worse as you fell out of contact with friends again - you weren't allowed to call them after all, since dad said it was too noisy if you laughed too loud. [break][break]
As the years dredged on, it got harder to get out of bed. The only reason you would was because you were more scared of what would happen if you didn't - and you had a little brother to take care of. You, at thirteen, pushed yourself to a breaking and snapping point that your brother noticed before you could. You became paranoid, withdrawn, sensitive and at times, lethargic and unresponsive. Yet still, you pushed and pushed through the beatings and the yelling and the insults. You responded to your father when he told you to repeat his spoken insults. You put yourself down to appease your step mother. You did everything in your power just to make things end sooner, and there came a time you thought to yourself: what's the point?[break][break]
You've thought about it, you know. You've laid in bed in tears, hugging your knees and contemplating it. Your grandfather by now has passed from old age and your grandmother came by your house, always in a rush, to protect you from your mother and father. She stepped in, and you're grateful, only for father to retort "who are you to tell me how to raise my child". Never wanting to worry her, you were forced to mature and cook for yourself and your brother after school. Never wanting to worry her, you would put on a smile and tell her that everything is okay; he doesn't hit you as much anymore. Stepmother doesn't insult you as much anymore. Neither of them ripped up your achievements for your brother's failure anymore. [break][break]
It tore you apart inside, it did, because despite all this you still loved your parents. Your stepmother, perhaps a little less, but when your father's temper didn't flare, he wasn't a bad person. When you showed interest in something, he'd happily sign you up for it. You were showered in material love and material wealth, but your house was a thread away from snapping. Instead, you learned to be soft spoken and smile for your own fraying mind. [break][break]
You hesitated when you were granted a full scholarship to Panacea in your sophomore year. [break][break]
Your thoughts were far from your own achievements; instead, you thought about your brother who you'd be leaving in that broken house. You thought about how you would be abandoning him to his fate with your parents, thought about how he'd be neglected. You talked to the first friend you made in freshman year, held your head and cried over the decision. To you, you would be abandoning your obligations, and you couldn't do that to your ten year old brother. [break][break]
Your brother knocked on the door the night you resolved to decline. You're glad he did.[break][break]
You two talked at length that night while mom and dad weren't home. You talked about leaving to live in the dorms, talked about leaving the house, though you vividly remember breaking down for the first time in front of your brother, sobbing and apologizing for not being the strong big sister he needed to look up to. You remember apologizing for breaking. You remember apologizing for even considering leaving him. You remember him grabbing your shoulders, you broken in tears and all, and telling you that it was okay. [break][break]
You've done your best. You've done enough. You've done good. [break][break]
You were oblivious to the ten years he watched you in that house. He talked about it to you at length, to the degree he could. He watched you break yourself down, watched you waste away. He watched you, so talented and bright, waste away in his shadow. He watched you lose the spark in your eyes and watched you withdraw. He watched you hiding bruises and laughing it off. He listened to the insults hurled at you and listened to his mother's affirmations and pride while she neglected you. He listened to the other students at other schools who called you weird and too sensitive, or too childish. Then, he admitted to you, in tears, that he was scared. [break][break]
He wanted you to leave so you could come back. If you stayed, he'll wake up without you one day. The thought terrified him - the vacant look in your eyes terrified him. [break][break]
He told you he'd be okay, that they've never laid a finger on him before. He said that his mother loved him, unlike how she loved you, and that she wouldn't let anything happen to him because of father. You, though reluctant, knew it as a fact. You knew that, even if you left, he would physically be okay. You still hesitated as he insisted you stop tearing yourself down for him - his imposter syndrome couldn't take it. His inferiority couldn't take it. His heart couldn't take it. After weeks of thinking and deliberation, you sat down to gently talk with your parents with your brother. [break][break]
Your father was supportive, which came as a surprise. In the few times he's in the right mind, he wanted you to succeed. Your stepmother was supportive, if only to get you out of the house. Still, she spoke passive aggressively, saying they wouldn't be able to support you if you left the house. When you said it was alright, another argument erupted - this time about how you apparently didn't need them, how you were abandoning them, how you were so useless that maybe it was good that you were taking yourself out. [break][break]
For the coming year, you've left that house. You still talk to your brother and still talk to your grandmother, who you call frequently. Given a few weeks, mother calmed down. The arguments didn't stop, but your brother was physically safe. Your grandmother was sad she couldn't visit you anymore, but you called her more often because she missed you. [break][break]
You left and have attended the school since then. Now, you've learned how to put a smile on your face. Now, you've learned how to smile the more you've hurt. You've adjusted, somewhat, but you haven't fully recovered. You keep your scars and tears hidden under blankets and the night - they don't know how different you are behind locked doors. [break][break]
You don't even know what you're like behind closed doors.
tw: child abuse/neglect, suicide ideation and depressive episodes
[break][break]
You weren't wanted. [break][break]
Or, no. You were wanted, once upon a time. Your mother was only twenty-one when she had you, a spontaneous decision made by her to keep your father tied down. She wasn't okay, you learned, and even less equipped to be a parent. Neither of your parents were prepared with the responsibility, so it surprised no one when your relatives found you ditched at another one of your parents' friends place to be babysat. It never surprised any of them to hear that they wouldn't be back to pick you up for days, and surprised no one when those friends desperately called your parents to take you home. [break][break]
They only held you when it was convenient, like you were a pet to coo over briefly before going back to their frat tendencies. Your father's family couldn't stand seeing you being treated the way you were, and it was their pity that took you in. At six months, you could barely raise your head. At two years, you couldn't even crawl. You went from babbling and rolling to standing up, then tripping over your legs due to poor motor skills. The caveat was that your family told you that you picked up language and conversation quickly, always listening to family conversations like they were the most entertaining things ever. Your extended family, still, fondly recalls how you'd laugh and clap in the middle of conversation. [break][break]
Mother was barely in your life now, and departs when you're three - you barely remember her face. Father is never home, still indulging in his frat tendencies. Lack of parents aside, you think (and tell yourself) that you grew up... pretty well? Your grandparents, though struggling with English, did their best to teach you by buying workbooks and your relatives pitched in to help you attend a private pre-school to catch up with your peers. Though you lacked the love and stability of an orthodoxic family, you grew to view your grandmother and grandfather as your parents - though it would concern your teachers when you drew grandma and grandpa for mother and father's day instead of your biological parents. Early years of teacher-parent nights were a little awkward.[break][break]
Your father remarries when you're four. Initially, you're happy to see another person in the family, and you refer to her as "mom". She is warned by everyone that, if she wanted to marry your father, she had to love you like her own daughter. She swore, yet her jealousy would always get the better of her. It only amplified after she bore your brother, younger by four years. Unlike you, he struggled with languages. He struggled with talking, struggled to babble and develop. Your family learns he's on the spectrum, and he needs some extra help at school. [break][break]
Unfortunately, it set him up for ridicule from your family - specifically due to the lack of understanding. He struggled to learn Greek and English and, for the sake of simplicity, he only learned English. You were forced into the position of translator. Your brother grew dependent on you, as you were the translator and you quickly became his primary caretaker - your step mother was the main breadwinner and was never home. Your father still had drinking and frat tendencies. [break][break]
She tried to love you, you understand, but the frustration and jealousy erupted sometimes. You were the praised child and the golden kid who showed so much more promise than your brother. At the same time, you were the doomed, tragic child because of who your parents were. You found yourself in a position where you couldn't be too outstanding. When you took martial arts, you were barred from the exam if your brother didn't qualify. You weren't allowed to ascend in piano lessons if your brother wasn't the same level. You couldn't get your lifeguard certification because your brother wasn't able to pass his class. Although everyone outside was impressed by your skills and your quick learning, you found yourself shackled to your brother - much as you loved him. [break][break]
As a sister, you resigned. [break][break]
You deserved this, you thought. Your deserved it when your step mother yelled at you and berated you, or put you down for slipping grades. She would downplay achievements while cooing over her son, and you didn't have to be grown to notice the rift between the two of you. You deserved it when she would egg on your father and his poor temper management, deserved it when he was the one who would start beating you. You deserved it when had the chance to participate in a competition and won gold, yet scolded when it was only narrowly won. You thought you deserved it when the world was expected from you - you thought you deserved it when you were punished for delivering the heavens. [break][break]
You hid the bruises at school. You'd laugh with the other students and your friends for what little time you spent with them. There was always family drama you were too young to understand, prompting your family to move further and further from other relatives until you were all cut off. Isolated, your father's temper got worse. Isolated, your step-mother got more daring. Again, they would never hit your face. Again, they told you that if you told the police, you'd be breaking the family apart. You would be the reason, you would be the bane of their existences. You learned to detach yourself from their screams and arguments and learned to wear a blank stare to the ground as they yelled; you learned that it made them stop sooner. At ten, you learned the bliss of silence. [break][break]
You became sensitive and overly critical of yourself. If someone at school mentioned something, you freaked out a little bit. They'd look at you funny, then it wouldn't be long for you to be alienated. Kids, you learned, were nasty when you were a transfer student. You thought time and time again that maybe this time will be different, but it only got worse as you fell out of contact with friends again - you weren't allowed to call them after all, since dad said it was too noisy if you laughed too loud. [break][break]
As the years dredged on, it got harder to get out of bed. The only reason you would was because you were more scared of what would happen if you didn't - and you had a little brother to take care of. You, at thirteen, pushed yourself to a breaking and snapping point that your brother noticed before you could. You became paranoid, withdrawn, sensitive and at times, lethargic and unresponsive. Yet still, you pushed and pushed through the beatings and the yelling and the insults. You responded to your father when he told you to repeat his spoken insults. You put yourself down to appease your step mother. You did everything in your power just to make things end sooner, and there came a time you thought to yourself: what's the point?[break][break]
You've thought about it, you know. You've laid in bed in tears, hugging your knees and contemplating it. Your grandfather by now has passed from old age and your grandmother came by your house, always in a rush, to protect you from your mother and father. She stepped in, and you're grateful, only for father to retort "who are you to tell me how to raise my child". Never wanting to worry her, you were forced to mature and cook for yourself and your brother after school. Never wanting to worry her, you would put on a smile and tell her that everything is okay; he doesn't hit you as much anymore. Stepmother doesn't insult you as much anymore. Neither of them ripped up your achievements for your brother's failure anymore. [break][break]
It tore you apart inside, it did, because despite all this you still loved your parents. Your stepmother, perhaps a little less, but when your father's temper didn't flare, he wasn't a bad person. When you showed interest in something, he'd happily sign you up for it. You were showered in material love and material wealth, but your house was a thread away from snapping. Instead, you learned to be soft spoken and smile for your own fraying mind. [break][break]
You hesitated when you were granted a full scholarship to Panacea in your sophomore year. [break][break]
Your thoughts were far from your own achievements; instead, you thought about your brother who you'd be leaving in that broken house. You thought about how you would be abandoning him to his fate with your parents, thought about how he'd be neglected. You talked to the first friend you made in freshman year, held your head and cried over the decision. To you, you would be abandoning your obligations, and you couldn't do that to your ten year old brother. [break][break]
Your brother knocked on the door the night you resolved to decline. You're glad he did.[break][break]
You two talked at length that night while mom and dad weren't home. You talked about leaving to live in the dorms, talked about leaving the house, though you vividly remember breaking down for the first time in front of your brother, sobbing and apologizing for not being the strong big sister he needed to look up to. You remember apologizing for breaking. You remember apologizing for even considering leaving him. You remember him grabbing your shoulders, you broken in tears and all, and telling you that it was okay. [break][break]
You've done your best. You've done enough. You've done good. [break][break]
You were oblivious to the ten years he watched you in that house. He talked about it to you at length, to the degree he could. He watched you break yourself down, watched you waste away. He watched you, so talented and bright, waste away in his shadow. He watched you lose the spark in your eyes and watched you withdraw. He watched you hiding bruises and laughing it off. He listened to the insults hurled at you and listened to his mother's affirmations and pride while she neglected you. He listened to the other students at other schools who called you weird and too sensitive, or too childish. Then, he admitted to you, in tears, that he was scared. [break][break]
He wanted you to leave so you could come back. If you stayed, he'll wake up without you one day. The thought terrified him - the vacant look in your eyes terrified him. [break][break]
He told you he'd be okay, that they've never laid a finger on him before. He said that his mother loved him, unlike how she loved you, and that she wouldn't let anything happen to him because of father. You, though reluctant, knew it as a fact. You knew that, even if you left, he would physically be okay. You still hesitated as he insisted you stop tearing yourself down for him - his imposter syndrome couldn't take it. His inferiority couldn't take it. His heart couldn't take it. After weeks of thinking and deliberation, you sat down to gently talk with your parents with your brother. [break][break]
Your father was supportive, which came as a surprise. In the few times he's in the right mind, he wanted you to succeed. Your stepmother was supportive, if only to get you out of the house. Still, she spoke passive aggressively, saying they wouldn't be able to support you if you left the house. When you said it was alright, another argument erupted - this time about how you apparently didn't need them, how you were abandoning them, how you were so useless that maybe it was good that you were taking yourself out. [break][break]
For the coming year, you've left that house. You still talk to your brother and still talk to your grandmother, who you call frequently. Given a few weeks, mother calmed down. The arguments didn't stop, but your brother was physically safe. Your grandmother was sad she couldn't visit you anymore, but you called her more often because she missed you. [break][break]
You left and have attended the school since then. Now, you've learned how to put a smile on your face. Now, you've learned how to smile the more you've hurt. You've adjusted, somewhat, but you haven't fully recovered. You keep your scars and tears hidden under blankets and the night - they don't know how different you are behind locked doors. [break][break]
You don't even know what you're like behind closed doors.
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