dramapunk: (Default)
 I don't have anything left, there is no silver lining. I give up on every being happy, life ever getting better, or ever getting out of here. There is no point, no good things will happen to me. I just need to get it over with.   I've applied 2500 jobs, and everything I've tried to make things better just ends up blowing up in my face. I have no skills, I have nothing worth living for.  

I just need to start sending my comic books to people and my actions figures. 
dramapunk: (Default)



New Print in my store! It's on bedding, bags, cards and prints please buy something or request something you'd like to see me do that you would pay for :D  If you can please share my store with people who you think will like things. 
dramapunk: (Default)
I don't have a reason to live.
dramapunk: (Default)
Lovely message on facebook from my older brother

Hey Sis, hope your well. Just want to let you know if I ever hear about your cursing Mom out and telling her to fuck off u ungreatful little fucker, I'm going to slap fire outta you next time I'm down there.If your so unhappy with your traumatized little life why don't you do something about it instead of always blaming the people that help you for your misery. Your in your 30s why don't u help our parents instead of using them and disrespecting mom all the time.
dramapunk: (Default)
I am having fewer and fewer good days. I hate everything about my body that I see in the mirror today, and yesterday as well.

Yesterday my sister-in-law who used to love me until social media drama showed up and has treated me like I am not even here.

I keep counting out what I hope is enough pills to kill myself... but am not brave enough to take them.

I am tired, so tired of not having any silver lining any ray of hope, so tried of filling out job applications, so tired of hanging on. Because what's the point. I haven't left the house past the drive way in a few months, and I haven't gone past the shopping center in longer then that.

I am aware I have online friends that care, but I haven't had positive human contact since around October. I have no real life friends anymore.

I don't have a real life, and I am not intelligent enough, talented enough or worth enough for anything to ever change for me. I mean 2000 + rejections mean something.

It's getting to the point where I don't even know why I keep pushing why I keep trying. I have nightmares every night, I wake up crying, go to sleep crying. I am not strong enough to make it, I don't know how much longer I can last sleeping in a hallway in a house filled with people who hate me.

I don't do anything I love anymore, I don't write short stories, because what's the point no one will read them, no one will like them. I don't read comics anymore because that's a privilege for people with money. I don't go to the cinema anymore because that's a privilege for people with money. I don't talk to people about comics anymore because it just makes me sad, and I am almost a year behind. I don't write scripts anymore because they'll never get made. I don't even day dream anymore because it just makes me sad.

I am even giving up on my store, because my art is shitty, and so is my photography, it's not selling and what is selling is all being bought by the same person to placate me into thinking I am worth something that I am good at something when I am not. I am a worthless piece of white trash and it's never going to get better. Not for me anyway.

I hate my body, I hate my life, I have no one outside the digital world to reach out too, my mental illness burned all those bridges. I have had three suicide attempts since I moved out here and I don't know why they keep failing I took like 40 or 50 benydril the last time and I nearly passed out in the tub but then I started throwing up all over my self and was sick for days. I don't even know why I am writing about this. Hardly anyone reads this anymore.

I don't have anything to hang on too, but if you donated to the moving fund, I set up a safety net should something happen to me so your money can be refunded. I haven't touched any of it because well, because it's for moving not living on while I am stuck in this hell hole.

I have almost 1,500 dollars not enough to even get me out of the house and into an apartment. I know where I want to be, I know I will never get there. That I will always be fat ugly and scarred, useless and talentless.

If I was worth anything I would have found something by now. but I haven't I have been looking for almost three years and I just want death to come. My life has never been good. I was kidding myself thinking I could every be one of the pretty and happy people.

I am sorry to the people online who care about me, that I have fallen this far, but things just keep getting worse. 80% of my belongings are packed because I am not allowed to unpack. I get yelled at for crying, get laughed at when I asked my dad for help moving someplace where I have a better chance of getting freelance work. But they'll spend 2,500 on my druggie older brother for christmas.

I was tricked into moving out here, but it's my fault for believing anything would ever be good for me. That would ever find happiness, me a fat talentless cow. Who am I kidding if I died the world would be better off. Because I have nothing to add to it, nothing good to contribute.

I am trying to hold on, I just don't know why I am bothering anymore. I know it's not going to get better, I know I am never getting into grad school I know I am never getting a job. I am a useless unlovable piece of shit. I have tried the crisis lines and they don't help, they just regurgitate the same script over and over. I have no way right now to get real professional help.

I have tried everything, and nothing is getting better. I am giving myself until my birthday for it to get better then I am shutting down everything. The gofundme, the store, my fiction accounts, this blog, my face book, and any connection I have with the people outside this house. I just don't see the point anymore. It's not going to change.
dramapunk: (Default)
I am not doing well. At all. The past 48hrs I haven't really stopped thinking about suicide or crying.

I am alone.
I want to die.

Nothing is going to get better.

It doesn't matter how many times I post links to my store or my fund raiser or how many thousands of jobs I apply for.

It's not going to get better.

I've sunk to low, I am to far gone. I keep applying I keep pushing but it feels pointless. I have nothing to live for. I have nothing to hold on too.
dramapunk: (Default)


So I am trying to get money together to move to a safer place. The paypal is money to buy food and tampons ect and the gofundme is strictly for moving, at this point it will probably take more then 6000 dollars to get me set up someplace new.

But if a guy can raise 45,500 dollars for no other reason then he wants to make potato salad, I think I can get funds to get out of an emotionally abusive house.

If you want to share this that would be great just not if we are friends on FB.
dramapunk: (Karl cold hue)
 I am not doing well. I am not stable, and I just ruined one of the few friendships I have. I can't stop crying and I don't see away out. I don't see any point where it gets better. 

The good days are non existent, and the stable days are quickly fading away as well. I haven't had one stable day this week. I hurt myself most days a week.

I feel like I am falling a part and pushing away the people who actually talk to me.  

Applying for jobs and sleeping in the hallway is not working in my favor, I am trapped in this emotionally abusive house, I am trapped with out mental health care. I don't even get to leave the house.

I have done any of the things I love in almost a year. No costumes, no comics, no conventions, no friends.... I can't stop crying right now.  

I feel like I can't handle life right now. I  feel like I have no control over any part of it.   I feel like I am falling apart and ruining the few good things I have left.   

I need to get out of here, I need help, but it's not going to happen, it's not going to change. 
dramapunk: (Default)
 I really wanted to be someplace healthy and safe by the end of July, but it's not going to happen I don't think I am ever going to get some place emotionally healthy and safe for me to live.  *long sigh* 
dramapunk: (Default)
 I am so fucking ugly no wonder I can't find a job. I am a fat hideous cow, I look ugly no matter what, I look ugly talking, I look ugly sitting, I look ugly no matter what I do.  

I my face and body are jacked up. 
dramapunk: (Default)
Warning: Emotional Abuse, Self Harm, Suicidal Thoughts.

I have a very bad relapse, my moods have been getting worse over the past few months and I can't control them any longer.

Yesterday was a very bad relapse, I locked myself in the bathroom and slashed the fuck out of thighs, the proceeded to bang my head into the wall until I was dizzy. I wasn't able to stop crying for 3 or 4 hours.

It continued into today, everyday it's harder to get out of bed, or not have the kinds of thoughts that scare me. I felt so hopeless today that once again I locked myself in the bathroom and cut until I didn't have the energy to anymore.

The wounds have been cleaned and have stopped bleeding so I am okay on that front. But the living conditions are not helping me right now.

My mother has gone off the deep end it seems. While she's never been a great mom, she was never this bad. I was living in San Francisco until October I had to leave the city I was born in when I ended up homeless, because I couldn't find a job that paid enough to keep a rough over my head.

I was brought out to Las Vegas by a series of lies, they told me I would have a room, and privacy and a work space for my art. That they would help me with my internship, or move some place I'd have a better chance at work.

These where all lies, I sleep in the hallway at the top of the stairs I don't even have a privacy curtain or screen. And I haven't been allowed to unpack, I've been wearing the same 6 or so out fits sense I moved here in October, I have to keep the clothes under the broken futon I sleep on because I don't have a dresser.

When I asked for help getting a dresser my mother laughed in my face, and took me to target a few times and walked down the furniture isle a few time saying oh no we don't need anything here.

A week after I asked for a dresser she bought the two 18 year old boys who live her brand new dressers, they are still sitting in the boxes unopened in the living room, because they boys didn't need them they have two each in their rooms.

My mom thinks this is funny. She also picks on me about how much I eat or don't eat, for not being able to drive, and the self harm scars I have. She knows the buttons I have, she knows I have BPD, and pushes my buttons so I end up hurting myself then yells at me for hurting myself.

She yells at me for eating and cooking even though I clean up after myself, she tells the boys they don't have to do any chores because that is why I am here. Then yells at me if things are cleaned well enough for her.

I've had to tell my friend to stop sending me care packages and mail, because she flips out and acuses me of hiding money from here. This happened at Christmas as well when a few friends sent me a very nice Winter Soldier jacket.

Recently she found me crying and told me to cheer the fuck up you freaking ball of sun shine or to pack my shit and get out, that if I didn't cheer the fuck up she'd put me on the bus back to San Francisco and I could sleep on the streets.  There is more but I don't feel like going into much more then that right now.  But writing this all out has helped a lot. I think I am going to start writing my dark thoughts out here more. 

I have no place to go no way out, I've been applying for jobs back home in the bay, none of my real life friends really know what's going on. I have no place to go and live, and I can't stay here.

I've been applying for jobs in San Francisco, Seattle and New York, places where I can find work and live with out ever needing a car. But it's not looking too good after 2000+ job application.

I am trying to raise funds to get out of this situation here  I am also selling art here 








dramapunk: (Default)
Paypal: punknewsie@gmail.com   My Gofundme

 My name is Shannon and I lived in San Francisco my whole life until October of 2013, I ended up homeless and had to move in with my parents in Las Vegas. ( where they retired._ 

My mother tricked me to move out here through a series of lies and manipulations. While she was talking to me I was living in a loft bed in the living room of an elderly friend. Barely making enough to support myself, but I was happy. 

I was told I would have a room and work space and that I would be able to take my time and find work. I’ve applied for 2000 jobs in the past 2 years.  When I got here, I found out my space was a broken futon in the upstairs hallway. 

I asked about a dresser or someplace to put my clothes in, and she laughed in my face, then the next day she bought my 18 year old brother and my 18 year old nephew new dressers. Then took me to target with her, and went down the furniture isle and said nothing we need here and took me home. 

She leaves passive aggressive notes with long lists of chores, and at the bottom it tells the boys they don’t have to do anything but watch me work.  

She has recently told me I need to throw out the belongings I haven’t unpacked, because they are taking up too much room in her garage, because I’m not allowed to unpack.

I get in trouble for getting packages from friends or using gifts cards and get accused of having hidden money.

Recently when I stand up to her she has threatened to hit me, my dad just ignores all this and tells me to just do what she asks and keep her happy.

I have had 4 suicide attempts since I moved here, one of which nearly worked but I started throwing up all over the place and survived. My family just thought I was sick.

I get yelled at for cooking food for myself despite the fact I clean up after myself so now I feel anxiety when I need to eat or am hungry.  I can’t keep living like this. 

Today she told me to clean my space and get the things out from under my bed, which is the only place I have to store things. So she is basically telling me to pack the few things I have unpacked. 

I got in trouble for scraping together money to go see Captain America: The Winter Solider. 

I am 800 miles away from any friends, and have no other family to turn too, I can’t post this on face book for fear the people I live with will see it. I don’t even post  to face book anymore, because she accuses  me of things when I do post.  

I’ve been told I’ll be kicked out if I don’t cheer up and forced to apologize for being depressed and told that I have nothing to be depressed about. My mother pushes my triggers that I have to trigger self harm, then makes fun of me for it, and tells me I am making the family look bad and need to at lest fake being happy when I am around them.  

I don’t eat, I cry myself to sleep, I wake up crying…. I need help. I need to move but I need help.  I don’t do anything I love anymore, and because I can’t see well enough to drive I am completely dependent on my abuser and don’t even leave the house anymore unless it’s for my internship. 

signal boosts and reblogs and plurks and tweets are all appreciated if you can give me a hand thank you very much. Things are just getting worse. 

I am trying to raise around 6000, to get out and get myself set up, 2000 will go to shipping my belongs and the rest to finding work, a place to live and getting there as well as transit. 

dramapunk: (Karl cold hue)
 I am not strong enough to keep going. I can't do this anymore. I am sick can't go to the doctor, I get accused of having hidden money. I just.... the suicide chat is busy and I don't have the privacy to call the hotline.  I give up. 

The Storm

Mar. 17th, 2014 01:04 am
dramapunk: (Default)
 The Storm
Original Erotic Fiction 
NC-17 

I wrote this original story enjoy, it's super smutty. 
dramapunk: (Default)
So I said I was going to try and post more and I meant it.

I have been having a very low day, and I don't know if that's because I didn't get home from my internship until almost four and had trouble sleeping.

Or because of all the nightmares I've been having lately. I even had them when I tried to take a nap earlier and I am pretty sure I've been crying in my sleep. I go to sleep crying wake up crying, spend a lot of time crying basically.

I can't handle faking things for the internship much longer things are getting worse in my mind and at home.

Donations have slowed down at my gofundme that's okay I didn't expect it to work over night, but I really need to find a job somewhere far away, I am looking on the east coast. In the New York area the transit system is really great, and given I'm not allowed to drive it's a must. I've also been looking in the Boston Area.  

If anyone has any leads please let me know I don't think I can hold on much longer. I wish I could find away to post the gofundme to facebook with out the people I live with or any of my family seeing it. But it's a big chance. 
dramapunk: (Default)

time travelsnowed insecret twin / doppelgangeralpha / beta / omegafusion
in vino veritas / drunkficroad tripau: fantasykiss to save the dayau: cop / detective
truth or daresecret childFREE

SPACE
handcuffed / bound togetherpresumed dead
secret relationshipgame nightau: magichuddle for warmthau: circus
au: coffee shopsoul bonding / soulmatesbodyswapfood pornau: daemons
dramapunk: (Default)
tr>
mistletoe kiss forced to marry au: coffee shop food porn presumed dead
poker/strip poker immortality / reincarnation au: apocalypse virginfic / secretly a virgin au: fantasy
snowed in huddle for warmth FREE

SPACE
Injury
wingfic au: were / vamp / supernatural
au: other au: historical curtainfic Road Trip slavefic
genderswap mind control sex pollen amnesia in vino veritas / drunkfic
dramapunk: (Karl Peeking)
Sass and Sunburns

(Goes to AO3)
Rating: PG
Summery: Clint and Phil are on an Op in Vegas and the sun is hot. For my free square on my trope bingo card, which will be injury.
dramapunk: (Default)
Chapter 1 )
 
Phil gives lots of advice, damn good advice, and he is always preaching the benefits of sleep of a full 8 hours or as close to it as you can get, because there will be missions where sleep is not an option. The problem is Phil can never seem to take his own advice. The level of tired he is reaching is getting ridiculous and Clint hasn’t seen his fiancée in almost 24 hours. Which given their lives he is used to, but there is no mission, the world is blowing up, and doom isn’t trying to take over a country. So this is totally unacceptable.
 
Because Phil is so tired for once he doesn’t notice the pair of eyes watching him as he stands from his desk stretching his arms above his head and moving over to his in office coffee pot. But he does hear the great drop as he takes his first sip of his 20th cup of coffee, and the soft thud of someone smoothly dropping out of it.
 
“You could have used the door Barton.” He says not phased by it, well maybe a little, he’s normally got a sense for when Clint is sulking about above his office, but he doesn’t show it instead he takes another long sip from his Captain America coffee mug.
 
“Sorry sir, not an option, this is an extraction… did you just Barton me…” He asks moving across the room, and taking the cup from Phil and setting it aside.
 
“Yes we’re on the clock.” He says flatly looking rather offended Clint took his coffee.
 
“I am not on the clock, in fact I have two days R&R and so do you, why the hell are you here?” He asks sliding the coffee away as Phil makes a go for it, instead when he misses he just takes the pot and starts sipping from that
 
“We’ve got a batch of new recruits, I need to oversee.”
 
“At two in the morning?”
 
“I have…” The words die as he yawns. “I have to get everything ready for Sitwell to give them the range test tomorrow, and interrogation lecture.” He says moving back toward his desk. But he doesn’t make it, the pot is removed from his hand and he finds himself being removed from his office. “Clint... Another yawn. “I’m serious, I’ve got work to do.”
 
“Like I said sir I’ve been called in on an extraction, by a friend of ours, you’re coming home and going to bed with me.” He smirks a little as they get outside.
 
“Okay fine a few hours then I have to come back and get back to work, so the new crop of Junior agents don’t get themselves blown up on the next Op.” He says letting Clint load him up into the passenger seat of the blonds car.
 
Once there the man realizes how tired he was and that he was probably going to have to triple check some of the paper work he just did in the last 45 minutes. He slips into a light doze and Clint doesn’t even turn on the radio as he drives them back to the tower.
 
He’s partly dragged, he won't say or admit to carried up to their floor, Clint strips Phil of his suit, and that’s when Phil notices that Clint in fact ‘extracted’ him from the office in his purple sleep pants and black t-shirt, it makes him laugh a little, maybe a little more than he normally would.
 
Clint smiles a little and shakes his head, getting the man into his sleep cloths, “Bed, now, please ‘kay thanks.” He says grinning a little.
 
Phil shakes his head but crawls under the blankets and lets out a low grown and snuggles into the pillows and blankets already almost asleep, when he feels the warm weight of Clint joining him in the bed, the last thing he feels before fully passing out are lips pressing to his forehead and arms wrapping around him.


Chapter 2

dramapunk: (Default)
 My last semester was a hot mess, my parents retired and moved to Las Vegas leaving me with my abusive drunk of a brother, thus i had to move out of their house, because he took over. 

Drain my savings getting an Apt in SF, which my friend and I where subletting from her grandma, we got caught by the landlord he tripled the rent and we had to leave. 

For the past four months I have been living with a friends mom, who is a hoarder wont call the landlord to make any repairs, I am living in the loft bed above her piano, and have about 5 to 6 sq feet to keep my life my depression has been getting worse because since graduating in May I applied for 150 job, between May and July and got rejected for every single one.  

In July I moved into the the health hazard of the hoarders house, she's a sweet women but I can't handel her crazy anymore... My only option is Vegas which is going to fuck up all my grad school stuff. :(  I am just so depressed. it's not even funny. I just I can't anymore. 

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