So, I’m not a terribly emotive person, growing up in a house were anything other than “neutral” was frowned upon (letting people know: that is not a healthy way to live, it’s the just the only way I know how) but somehow, wallowing in certain fandoms, I get a bit crazy - or regular for a normal person.
Anyway, I was saying, not terribly emotive which sometimes leads to me having these outbursts, most notably from searching the damned Doctor Who tags and seeing images of Rose & Ten or Rose & Nine or just Rose (total girl crush on her). I’m laughing one moment and then bam! I’m balling, screaming about how people shouldn’t be talking about “my Rose”. It brings some crazed looks from the people in the house, and then subtle shaming. Really, really subtle shaming.
I should not be allowed to watch tags that cause emotional outbursts. I can’t help it.
Geezus; why the hell am I having an argument over how to fry a fucking eggplant. It’s my goddamned eggplant, why the fuck can’t I bread the effing thing?! Ugh. This is why I am moving - because I can’t take this shit anymore.
Can’t be angry, can’t be overly happy, can’t be anything other than fucking “neutral” - what does that mean? Why can’t I be upset that I’m not allowed to make my eggplant that I bought, why does it have to be community property? I pay to live here, I buy my own food, I don’t eat anyone else’s stuff.
Christ almighty. How the hell have I lived like this for so long? All I want to do is eat my food how I want and cry over TV shows.
I WANT TO FEEL OKAY ABOUT CRYING OVER ROSE AND THE DOCTOR! I am sick of being so ashamed of everything.
Maybe I should allow myself to surf the Doctor Who tags and the Sherlock tags and the Supernatural Tags along with the crazy OCD and Food tags that I follow. It’s okay for me to follow food, I like to eat, it does not bring an outward emotional response. It’s okay for me to follow the Corgi tag, I work with dogs.
But TV tags? With delightfully sad pairings? And I’m not just talking about my Rose and the Doctor. I’m talking about the insane, closeted love for Supernatural. Like Extremely. I can’t talk about it, I try not to think about it and I sure as shit attempt not to perpetuate it.
… tell that the TVDs I have hidden in the closet, wrapped up and waiting to be opened and played. Can’t do that here, I dare not shed that love to light. I watch it secretly.
… While I type this, the fight is turning from eggplant to the fact that my mother is pissed that I am leaving. I’m in my late twenties and I’ve been trying to get away since I was 18. I fucking moved 3500 miles away on Christmas. And then she followed and due to the fact that I wasn’t making any money at my job, I was forced to move back in - those were the best six months of my life.
Being the fuck away from all of this. Being able to not feel so … fearful, of people’s reactions on what I like. Being able to embrace myself, I have no idea who the hell I am. HELLO! Identity crisis here.
I’ve been doing the same thing for six years. The only thing that has changed is the fact that I no longer go to college (I graduated, which is a big deal because I HATE school) but mostly it is the same: Sleep, Work, Eat and Home. I don’t even go out with people really or have friends outside of work.
It horrifies me at times. … Where’s the little girl who wanted to climb Mount Everest, who wanted to travel the world on a water buffalo? I feel like I let myself down.
See what happens when I look at Rose/Doctor tags? It’s frightening.
Less than a week, and I’m out of here.