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Some days, I don't know myself

L

Lieutenant Ducky

Star
Joined
Jan 9, 2009
While there are certain moral obligations to those you care about, the ethical liability ends with negative repercussions of the other's actions. While striving to love and care for an individual, it is not appropriate to shield a significant other from legal ramification from their behavior. To do so would be to involve yourself in a way that you as a lover should not and would compromise yourself as a law abiding citizen. Also, while there is some leniency and a tendency to make excuses for the people we chose to involve ourselves with romantically, the emotional bond should not act a bubble to shield the loved one from the negative reactions to their behavior. Those we love are not flawless and sometimes the best way to deal with them is to treat them as if they were strangers so as to act appropriately and fairly to all involved.

In a relationship, the base emotion had for one another is caring. And in that, it would be appropriate to attempt to protect the lover from physical or emotional duress. While a self sacrificing gesture may be a bit over the top for some, the act of say, pushing the significant other towards a mugger with the proclamation of, â??stab them instead,â? would undoubtedly be frowned upon and even viewed as unethical. The best course would be to ensure the safety of yourself as well as that of your partner. It would also be typical in a relationship to strive to lessen the discomfort of the one you care about to the best of your ability, by say lessening exposure to nasty in-laws or doing a bit more of the household chores to lower daily hassles. These are things we do out of love that may not be expected, nor always moral obligations, but are appropriate displays of affection and upstanding moral behavior.

However, when the significant other in question decides to break the law, it would be unethical to attempt to shield them from the impending ramifications of their actions. Aided and biding a criminal is unethical as well as illegal and would find yourself in trouble with the law as well. Punishment for crimes is in place for a reason, and while you may want to seek to protect your loved one from the duress of serving time, it is beyond you to strive to do so. As an individual, you can disagree with the law and the verdicts and sentences reached, but you cannot undermine it entirely, as you cannot know what is best, nor behave in a manner that is fair when it comes to those you care about. The best course of action would be to allow the law to take it's course, and if your emotional bond is strong enough with that individual that you either aren't dissuaded by the crime, or are willing to wait for proper penitence to be served, to stay by their side. If that bond is not that strong, the ideal would be to move on with your own life and perhaps find someone with a shorter rap sheet. I do not believe that it is an ethical debate as to whether you stay with someone who has committed a crime or not, though there can be certain moral dilemmas involved that are of a separate nature entirely.

When it comes to the inter workings of relationships, the favoritism shown to those we care about is hardly an ethical issue in that it is expected. We certainly are likely to show those we love more compassion and allow them more room for short comings. Without this compassion and leniency, the interdependent nature of a relationship becomes extremely difficult at best, and would make cohabitation nigh impossible. And so it is not unfair nor morally wrong to be more likely to forgive your partner for being late when you would perhaps frown upon a stranger or a less known acquaintance running late. We appreciate that those we care about, care about us, and so we give them certain allowances that make it easier to relate to one another, coexist, and be contented with each other in a romantic setting.

The ethical issue evolves out of that leniency in the form of excessive forgiveness. Excessive being forgiving or overlooking serious flaws that threaten the well being of yourself or those around you. Staying with a person because you care about them even though they are abusive and strike you is unethical. It is a poor treatment of who you are as a person, and you wrong yourself every moment you allow it to persist. And despite your emotional attachment, even if you strive to free yourself from the relationship, that is not enough. It is a moral obligation you have to report the abuse. The emotions you have should not shield someone that intends to exploit a relationship in such a manner, and if you neglect to report them, while you are not responsible for their actions later on, as you cannot control their behavior quite obviously, you are involved in your negligence. In these situations, the most appropriate manner of handling the relationship deviancy would be to look at it as if the person involved were a stranger. If you would not tolerate the abuse from someone on the streets, you should not be tolerating it within your romantic endeavors. And in the sake of universal ethics, if you would report a stranger, report the loved one for that same damage done to you. The leniency should not dissuade you from seeking the legal ramifications you would in any other situation, and it only serves to hurt yourself and others more in the long run.

I can appreciate that there are other emotional values that go into such a decision, and that it is not an easy decision either. I was in an abusive relationship for two years. Three years full of excuses and patience, and what I felt was infinite understanding. All the while I was talked down to, bullied, pushed around, dehumanized and raped. Three years is an indecent amount of time to allow this to happen to yourself. It takes a toll on the body and mind not easily fixed. And by the time I chose to seek a way out, I no longer cared about doing the right thing. I merely wanted out. Not reporting him was an immoral choice, the wrong decision. One that I still regret to this day. While I do not believe this makes me a bad person as a whole, I do feel it speaks volumes about the negative traits in me. It does reflect poorly on me. While doing the right thing would have proved a trial in itself given the often times unethical treatment of the law when it comes to victims of abuse and rape, there is no excuse for my aversion to it but for my own cowardice and emotional weakness.

The legal system is in place to protect people as best it can from a wide variety of harm, including domestic abuse. Impeding that system in anyway is to condone that harm to continue, and thus it is immoral. Allowing someone to continue to behave in a manner that is unethical is unethical in it's own right. Reporting abuse is the right thing to do. Allowing the law to take it's course is not only leads to a less stressful life, it's ethical.




My final paper for my ethics class. The product of insomnia, poor diet, a lot of stress, and even more self loathing. There is not a day that goes by that I don't blame myself. It doesn't matter if I try to reason with myself, emotions rarely listen to logic, I suppose.
 
Love does exactly what it wants to do. -James and the Giant Peach.
 
For those that seem to think they know me, this is for you.

I've made bad decisions. I tried so desperately to make the best of decisions, for myself and those around me. An old love got back in my life, telling me I was his only chance for happiness, and I listened. I let myself get pulled in, despite being happy in a current relationship, and even went to spend time with this old love. And that's where things went awry. In his mind yes apparently means yes for life. So when he started to tug off my pants, my telling him no, behave, please Phil, come on stop it, and even as my no's became more forceful, it didn't mean a thing to him, because I had wanted it so badly when we dated. So he got his way, and then later told me that I was a disgusting, cheating whore and that no one would want me, so I had better stick with him. That he wouldn't hold it against me. I listened.

So I kept up two lives, and it was miserable. I did my best to keep the boyfriend happy, though he had trust issues, and I'm sure he knew all along that I was lying to him, and I'd humor the ex to avoid the guilt trips. I could feel every bit of Cassandra that I had ever been proud of slip away with each lie. But I kept up the lies for....half a year?

And then came some not so pleasant news. I was pregnant. Nineteen at the time, in two miserable relationships, and pregnant, with my body already rejecting. So rather than wait for the horror of a miscarriage, I made a difficult decision just for me. It was the most painful thing I have ever gone through, and I mourn what could have been every day. I feel I made the right choice given my circumstances. But that doesn't mean that that decision was made without regret and that it hasn't left lasting damage.

I fell apart at that point. I pulled away from everyone, and both boys reacted negatively. Phil became more abusive towards me. And Brett decided to start sleeping around with some of his past girls. When Brett found out about everything, he exploded in anger, even hit me just to make his point. So I went home to find Phil waiting for me. He was so convinced that now that I was single again and that my mother had given up on controlling me, he could have me back without any trouble. And when I resisted that, he lashed out. Made some cruel jokes and then proceeded to ignore me and go out on a date with some girl, just to make me jealous.

I had had enough. I told Phil to go fuck himself and stormed out in a fury. I had never felt so...proud of myself. I haven't looked back. I miss him, I still love him. But I recognize how bad for me he is, and I know to say no. Like a kitten with antifreeze. Sure, it smells sugary, but it's made me sick before, so maybe I should avoid that shit, right?

I had a dramatic change in egos. I switched over to another girl, and I started living life a bit. Brett came around, we talked everything out, every bit of good and bad and we decided we would try again. I forgave him all his trespasses. He was supposed to forgive mine. That didn't happen.

Four months of being accused every day of cheating. Four months of doing my best to prove that I wasn't that girl. And it was all wasted. We fell apart as the cold weather hit. I had to be strong for him, since he needed so much reassurance, but I'm a seasonal depressive, and as soon as it got cold, I had a harder time being there for him. I just fell apart. I tried to make him understand, and he reacted so negatively.

So we broke up. I was upset, but trying not to let it affect me in such a bad way. To recognize it as good. An old interest of mine was around, I started living off of impulse. Not always the best of decisions, hardly a bad one at times though.

Then I find out that Brett, the man I had seriously contemplated marriage with had gone too far in his self destructive nature. He spent Thanksgiving, plus a few days in a mental hospital. And later decided to sell all of his belongings to hop in his beat up, junky old car and drive away with no destination.

I feel responsible for his spiral. Even if I was miserable, if I had stuck it out, he wouldn't be pulling that stunt. If I had worked harder, I could have made it work somehow. I have a hard time thinking about myself, but on the rare occasion I do, I always feel so guilty about it. I blamed myself. I pulled away from everyone, I barely slept, I barely ate.

And eventually, I contacted him. We kissed and made up, I encouraged him to go on the trip because it meant a lot to him, and it was an opportunity. I wished him well. He came back after three months of being gone, ready to put forth effort. Telling me that the reason he came back was for me, and that he would work hard, change, and be the man I needed him to be. I was changing too, for the better. I learned to speak up for myself, to demand what I wanted and to stop settling so much.

Another three months later, his effort has supposedly been spent. He still hasn't found a job, and in his copious amount of free time, he tears me apart. Every conversation I have is a secret he must be a part of. Every friend I attempt to make at work is a possible secret lover. I am steadily under a microscope. I will be twenty one this october, I have never been to a party. I haven't really gone out with a big group of friends of my own. I haven't done so much, I'm not allowed to live. Even going out to the movies, or the club with a female friend is an entire ordeal.

I'm tired. I want to live my life. I want to have fun.

I don't care what you think about me. Call me a cheating whore, I'll be offended because deep down, I agree. But that doesn't mean you're right. That doesn't mean you have any business judging me.

And now anyone that cares to know, knows some of my dirtiest secrets. Because someone I thought was a friend couldn't be trusted to keep them in the first place. Now, it's public knowledge. Thanks for your time, thanks for your concerns, thanks for your betrayal.

Have a wonderful day.
 
I suggest you start living ALIVE before you die.

Stop restraining yourself with this guilt and these excuses called 'boyfriends'.

Please forgive me if I come off insensitive and/or ignorant to your situation. I can honestly admit that I have never experienced such horrible pain.

But, what's the point in living if you can't live alive? Don't let the guilt and excuses become the noose that hangs you. Take back your happiness, and live the way you want to.

Live Alive.

My ear is at the ready for you.
 
I don't know if you know me well enough to understand how well this rings with me... I don't think I ever told you about Vanessa, so you might not. Either way.

The constant fear of who you were can be a great motivator, but personally, I've come to seriously doubt that you can ever make that person completely vanish. Better to work within those constraints. It's not impossible to find someone who's both understanding and firm, forgiving without forgetting. And even though I know your opinions on this specifically differ from mine, you're completely wasting every second you spend associating with your boy, because a boy is all he is. Drop him. Ignore him. Don't even bother 'staying friends', he couldn't handle it. I don't think any guy who's been exposed to you on that level could, honestly.

Of course, you'll do whatever you think is best, as it should be. Good luck.
 
After reading your journal, I felt compelled to impart a few things on you if only to bring a measure of comfort;

1. Live your life as YOU see fit. To hell what anyone else thinks or says about how you do things or why you do things. They aren't you and they don't know what it's like to be in your shoes..or webbed feet as the case is. ~Weak attempt at humor~
But seriously, you're around your feathered butt twenty-four hours a day, you've been with yourself since you were an egg waiting to be hatched and forever be a part of the mystery of which came first? Ducky or the egg? Wait..now I'm getting my fowl crossed. Whatever.

2. If you recognize that a relationship is toxic, be that smart kitten and avoid the antifreeze. Yes, it may try to coax you into thinking it's not lethal, but seldom is the case. I won't say it can't -not- be lethal...but in this Muse's humble opinion, why chance even an upset stomach or the runs for a pleasant taste of sugar when you can get it somewhere else? Somewhere that won't make you curl up in a tight ball and curse your feeling reciptors. <_< Did I even spell that word right? Ah fuck, you know what I mean, yes?

3. Tough choices in life are ..well...tough. And if a person cares truly for you, they won't judge you by those choices that you were forced to make right or wrong. And honestly? I don't think any one human being or mortal creature, short of a few circumstances, has the right to tell another what IS right and wrong.
When your back is against the wall, you do whatever you can to push away from that wall to avoid being crushed, yes, you may be forced to do things that others may not agree with but again as I stated before, it's YOUR life and no one else's. When they're in the exact same situation and it's all said and done, maybe then they've got a pot to piss in and a better understanding of the afformentioned pot's contents, until then be proud of the fact that you did what you felt was right even if it leaves you somewhat raw inside. Surviving isn't easy and living is even harder...sounds to me like you're more alive than you might realize, Dear.

4. Friends. Love to hate them and hate to love them sometimes. When a confidence is betrayed, it's hard to understand and cope with the fact you trusted them not to say something and then they run their mouth anyway.
It's a catch twenty-two situation in which if you don't say anything, whatever the secret is will eat away at you and could cause you many a sleepless night. On the other hand, saying something puts you in a vulnerable position of having your confidence broken and realizing that your friend is a fallable creature who makes mistakes without intending to.
Maybe they had their own motives and felt they were doing the right thing as well? Or maybe they had less than amicable intentions..I'm all for giving a person a chance and sometimes when that isn't enough, perhaps they aren't the friend you thought them to be.

Now that I've climbed my soap box and prattled on, I hope there is at least something in my rant that will if nothing else, amuse you enough to crack a smile even though you and I haven't really talked much. I'm not even sure if any of that made any sense or if I'm coming off like one of those 'know-it-all' types..I guess all I can say is that I understand about at the very least, having to make some decisions that other people may not agree with. Their judgement hurt, but then I realized that it's my life and until they stepped foot in my shoes? Well, they could kiss my white and red ass.
 
Thank you, Kite, for your kind words and encouragement.


Try, I didn't know her name, but I did know of the girl. And I get you. Trust me, it makes complete logical sense. I'm just not known for acting on logic. I'm a little too soft on people, and my emotions are powerful things. Though, I saw what you did there. And thanks for the ego booster. Was sweet.


Erato, you are a doll. Adorable, quirky, and very sweet. I thank you for your reassurance and the encouragement to be me. Personally, I don't believe in right or wrong. Just the best possible outcome that one can foresee. Was Kant, I do believe, that said that it is impossible to know the ramifications of any action. I think that was about the only point I agreed with him on. Ahh, well.

I agree, friends can be fallable creatures who make mistakes. But it's no friend who tears you apart simply to boost themselves up. Which I fear was the purpose of this betrayal, which is why the damage done is so extensive. But things will work out, or they won't. Only time can tell.

If you ever care to chat some time, I have both MSN and AIM. My AIM is on my profile, msn, just ask. I wouldn't mind getting to know you a bit better.
 
I made my decision. It certainly wasn't a fun one to made. But I left my dessert date with Brett single. I got so angry. So very angry.

After two months of me pushing him to even look for a job, he expected me to be excited because his sister found him a job at Denny's with her. I told him that I deserved effort. That he shouldn't leap at the first thing dropped in his lap, because that shows nothing of his interest in having a job, of a want to look for a job. I'm left being told that our relationship was floundering because I was cold, and pulling away. That it wasn't his fault he didn't try to see me. That it wasn't his fault he hasn't been here for me.

And after I lost my temper and got him to admit I deserve better, that he could be better, I asked him for how long. His response, "For as long as I can," with an exasperated sigh. Like I was asking too much of him to give me what I deserve. More and more we went back and forth until we were staring at an obvious breakup, yet again. And it was in that moment that he decided he could be different. That it takes the end of everything, a broken heart and so much anger, to say that he was ready to be different.

I said no.
 
-pets Ducky's head-

I'm proud of you. ^^

Now start living life the way you desire. :cool:
 
Dear Ducky,

Abuse is a terrible thing to suffer through, whether physical, emotional, or mental, especially when received from a loved one. To be able to have broken the cycle that you were living through had to have taken great effort. Even if you feel as though you might have run or simply took a way out. I, myself, don't condone cheating, but I will never hold it against you or anyone else. (Unless of course it was a lover of mine, then they would lose their balls.) But, anyways. The thing is that you have to realize is that heaving up all the guilt and regret and other negative feelings onto your shoulders does nothing but weigh you down further. I'm glad you took initiative when dealing with Bret, as hard as that had to have been for you. I'm glad you are changing for yourself, rather than a loved one. I'm sorry that you lost more than anyone should, or dealt with more than anyone should. At least in my book. I can't say anything I've gone through can give me any firm understandings of what you have been through, but I will say that I am proud of you, whether you believe me. I am proud to know what I can of you, even as dark and dismal as it can be. People make mistakes, but the hardest thing is to grow and change and learn from those mistakes. And if I know you as well as I hope, you'll be able to do such things, even if it takes a long time to do so. The recovery process you're probably going to go through will be tough, but either way, no matter what, I'll still be proud of you because I'm your friend and I care. Even if it is just the internet, even if it is just a website through which I know you, I'm still proud to know of you in the manner that I do.

Love, Hahvoc.​
 
Why ducky is sad.....


Ducky isn't good with people. She's shy and timid, always has been. She puts on a good impression, a grand act of extroverted behavior, but she's really nervous. She doesn't like new people or new places, and she spent a lot of time growing up alone. She has a hard time making friends, in that they think she's a friend, but don't understand that she's shy. Ducky doesn't call. Ducky doesn't show up and demand to go out. Because Ducky is always thinking that you don't want to talk to her, that you don't want to spend time with her. She doesn't think very highly of herself, you see.

But she grew up, and grew out, changed the way she saw herself just enough to make a few friends, to start being sociable. She changed how the world saw her, and the world seemed to like her. But still, no one understood her.

She eventually made friends with an equally timid Bunny, and things were interesting. They got along great, did many things, were perhaps the best friends ever had. But they also had violent disagreements, and nasty falling outs. Ducky ended up dating Bunny's crush, a nasty horse. The horse was cruel and liked to make Ducky cry, but she stayed. The horse was mean and liked to lash out at Ducky, but she stayed. The horse was selfish and did it's best to destroy every other bond Ducky had, but she stayed.

Ducky was very sad, but felt obligated to stay in her situation. She didn't know how to get out, and also, leaving meant acknowledging defeat. That Ducky's mum and dad were right, and that she had made a terrible mistake. And Ducky, for all her low self esteem, still has a sense of pride. Two years of fights and breakups, of getting kicked out of her home lake and made to live in a stable, two long years of working as much as possible and bending to every whim of Horse, of him using her money for his games, of telling her that she was responsible for transportation so he didn't have to try, Ducky was sad.

But Ducky met Spike, and he was sad too. It resonated between them, made them common souls. And they reached out to each other, thought perhaps they could chase each others' sadness away. Ducky made her choice, went home, and left Horse that very next day, knowing that cheating was bad, and her heart already belonged to another.

Spike was sweet and caring, and gave her gifts and wanted to talk to Ducky. It scared her, really. Ducky didn't know how to handle such warmth, such compassion. Ducky went through fits of gushing and clamming up and being very cold. She didn't know how to behave, and Ducky's most trusted companion, her hero even, told her that she wouldn't survive with a nice guy. That Ducky didn't know anything besides the roller coaster ride, and nothing else would ever satisfy her. Ducky thought that made sense, started to miss the violent ups and downs of Horse.

He caught wind of this, and came back around. He guilted Ducky, telling Ducky that he could be happy no other way than if she came back. She didn't want to, Spike was so caring, but she didn't have it in her to say no to Horse either. She made the wrong decision. She trusted Horse just enough to let him back in, just enough for him to hurt her. For him to make her think she was less than what she was.

And with that, she believed it. How could she ever be happy with a nice guy when she didn't deserve him? She beat herself up about it for a long time, full of self loathing, but she smiled at everyone. Even Bunny thought Ducky was happy in this most miserable of places.

But the abortion was the tipping point. Ducky wanted children, she really did. But she was scared and not ready and didn't have a way of supporting said children. And nothing felt right. Before she even knew the news, she was often bent over in horrible pain, a sharp, shooting pain that was dizzying. Spike didn't like the end decision, but he held her hand. He kept her safe for the whole event, kissed away her tears, and held her while she wept.

Horse made jokes in the background. No one else was there for her for that experience.

When Spike found out about Horse, he was angry. In a way that Ducky had never seen before, and he sent Ducky off into exile. Horse was there waiting, but even in such a fragile state, Horse didn't know how to be gentle. Ducky finally realized that Horse could never be what she wanted, and she chased him off with a terrible quacking.

Ducky and Bunny started to talk again, then reconnected as friends, but Bunny was always talking about this internet guy or that one, and Ducky was still in love with Spike. Eventually, through a few events both intended and not, Ducky and Spike saw each other, and that same pull was still in affect. They promised no more lies, and tried again. Ducky felt...dare she say, excited? Like possibilities were finally open to her, like she really deserved to be loved.

Ducky and Spike went off for vacation, and it was an amazing time. The happiest week of Ducky's life, without a doubt. The pair were often mistaken for honeymooners, and the comparison made both of their hearts sore with the very idea. But on the last night, as their bags were packed, and they tried to sleep, Spike couldn't sleep. He finally admitted that he had wronged Ducky just as much as Ducky had wronged Spike. And that it was a poor choice, and he did understand how such mistakes are made.

Ducky was hurt, but thought that maybe, just maybe, it would help. That there would be a mutual understanding. They were in a car accident that day. Spike hadn't really slept well that night, but Ducky is an insomniac, so she had Spike stretch out in the backseat with her, his head in her lap. She saw the collision coming, and bent over him as best as she could, holding his body in place, shielding him as she could from any damage that could be done.

Ducky went away from the accident limping and sore, a few bumps and bruises and a scratch or two. Spike had a scratch on his face and a bruise on his arm. And for all his panic, Ducky kept him calm, just happy that they were both alive and alright. It felt like a rebirth, and Ducky was on high. That with this near death experience, maybe they could live life together the right way.

Ducky was perhaps falsely hopeful. Winter hit and Spike was moody. Ducky was depressed. They did nothing for their moods, and after a few silly arguments, Spike gave up. He didn't fight for Ducky. He chose instead to sulk and whine and bemoan how terrible his plight was. All Ducky had hoped for was just a smile, a persistence. For him to be there at the end of the day.

Another breakup. Ducky grew much in a short time, she thinks. Bunny wasn't really around, she was caught up with some turtle down in Texas, but Ducky didn't mind. Ducky felt strong that holiday season, and when Spike finally reached for her, she was strong. She told him to go out, see the world, and not to come back until he was ready. That the world would change, that they would change, and given enough time, they would be ready for each other.

He didn't stay gone long enough. He missed the comforts. Ducky can't really say why he rushed back, expect that he did so for her. Not because she asked him to, but because he missed her. Ducky worked hard, trying to save up for an apartment. She encouraged Spike to pursue his art if that's where his passions laid. But also told him that she couldn't support them both just yet.

He gave her excuse after excuse as to why he hadn't looked for a job, but Ducky didn't mind, because she had money saved up, and because he was doing his art. Then Ducky got into another accident, this one leaving her with a bit of head trauma. That one really scared her, she was a bit touchy about things from that point on.

All the money she was saving up went to a new car, and Spike promised he would step up, but he didn't. Ducky and Spike started arguing more, as Bunny had given the Turtle the slip and finally had time to spend with Ducky. Spike didn't like Ducky going out without him. But Spike also didn't have money to go out, what with the lack of job. Ducky thought perhaps the idea might motivate him. It didn't.

Ducky put her foot down, telling Spike what needed to happen for them to be able to be together. That he needed to get his act together, stop sleeping on his friend's couch, and find a job at the very least. He talked big, but never tried. Ducky gave up trying, and became cold, reserved.

Ducky was having trouble at home. Ducky's father was accused of a terrible crime, and after a few talks with the police and DSS workers, Ducky's mother was quite distraught. You see, Ducky's mother had gone through a lot of abuse as a child, and this accusation brought up lots of bad memories.

Ducky did her best to be strong for her family, while being so sad about how her relationship was panning out. Then came the revelation that Bunny seemed to have nothing nice to say about Ducky. Ducky's best friend had turned. After an attack from Bunny's most recent toy, Ducky confronted Bunny. Bunny blamed Ducky for many things, said many hurtful things, and then stated they couldn't be friends.

Ducky was sad, but Spike had managed to scrape enough money together to come see her the next day, and Ducky was excited. But Spike let her know that he wasn't feeling good. Ducky cried a lot, but told him in her bestest, strongest voice that if he needed to take the day and relax, he should. He did just that.

Ducky was overwhelmingly sad, and she took to not wanting to come home. She stayed after at work for no other reason than just not wanting to come home. Spike got suspicious, wanted to know who Ducky was talking to. Spike didn't believe that Ducky just honestly wanted friends. He believed that she was trying to replace him romantically.

Another argument later, Ducky tells Spike goodbye. It hurt. Ducky is still not sure she made the right decision. She recalls being told all her life that you know when you meet the one. The one that changes you, makes you want things you never did before. Spike made Ducky ready to be all the things she never thought she'd be interested in. Ducky was certain that Spike would be good to her Ducklings, a sentiment that is still bewildering. She just feels that Spike isn't ready for love. That Spike doesn't know how to look on the bright side of life, to see that the world is a good place with good people. That he is truly cared for.

Ducky is sad because all those she cares about aren't okay, can't see that she loves them. Ducky is sad because she swims alone.
 
Not so alone.

Not everybody can swim in your pond, but at least you can hear their distant quackings, or hootings, or howlings, or whatever animal metaphor you wish, echoing through the night, all signals from the distance saying "We are here, we love you, we can't be with you but we think you're worthwhile."

And we do.
 
Its a matter of want. Whomever loved due to what was expected, what was deserved etc soon finds unhappiness. Its a matter of what you saw, desired and pursued. It doesnt matter if upon closer inspection it wasnt what you wished for because maybe it will help the next pursuit. A friendly owl, a gruff bear, a timid squirrel, theyre all out there and maybe they will someday come to the pond to drink. You can wait, or seek them out, but once they are exposed to the occupant of the pond they may come back more often, then one day, one of them might learn to swim or convince you to come on land, who knows, maybe both.
 
Things were so much simpler in younger years. Winning that game of hide and seek or getting that awesome new toy you saw in the middle of your Saturday morning cartoons were the biggest of concerns. You looked forward to lunch, not as a break in your day, but as an event in and of itself. Friends came easily and the worst fight you knew came out of a broken toy, so quickly forgotten, despite all those angry words, "I'm not your friend anymore."

Now, we're left with heartbreak and expectations. So many let downs, ruined relationships and the ever present crashing of dreams. We'll never grow up to be astronauts or cowboys. Our options are soul less and painful, or simple. I suppose it's insanity to attribute the life of an addict with the simple pleasures of childhood, but it seems fitting. Getting that fix is the only concern. And when high, what's not to enjoy?

For those of us who don't turn to drugs, there's little to sooth the soul. Disappointment follows every up swing, and motives tint every kind deed. It's impossible to trust, harder to care, and those that do....well, they are not the brightest of cookies, now are they? After all, who willingly sets themselves up to be broken but the fools of the word.

Some of you may claim that I'm painting a morbid picture, that it's my pessimism that holds the brush, my bitterness the paint. But tell me who is happy. Give me names. I want a role model, so by all means, offer one up. Tell me who manages to be stably happy in our realm. Outside of the fairy tales and movie landscapes, who is happy? I haven't seen these people.

Masks, sure, I've seen plenty of them. But that's a facade. And there's nothing to envy about people who can't even deal with their misery enough to wear it on their faces.


I've seen the best minds of my generation, broken by mental illness. We're all crazy these days. Everyone is depressed, we all have issues that would have made Freud blush, and everyone needs medication.

I want to play hide and seek, run from my problems, hide from the pain. I'll keep looking for happiness, you haven't won yet.
 
There cant be permanence to happiness, only attempts to maximize moments of it. I know several people who are happy much of the time, my grandparents, my cousin anthony and a few others. The thing is that they cant be happy all the time, so you increase your tolerance. You dont get upset over small stuff and the big stuff you focus on it but dont let it shape your life. Find happiness with yourself and its easier to find it with others. Well thats what Ive seen at least.
 
My dear hero,
Never had I imagined you would be such a nefarious opponent. Here I thought I was the temptress and yet I find myself quite taken, entranced by you. And with seemingly no effort on your part. Am I so easily duped? So easily taken in? My villainous cohorts of the past have left me powerless against the charms of the righteous. You disarm me, wound me, and provide a sense of security, all in one fell swoop. Even the coldest of villainess would falter, right? Ah, these delicate vulnerabilities. How easily you coax them from me. I second guess myself these days more than ever in the past. How sweet are your come ons, how careful your commitments, always cautious, always captivating. Leaving me never sure where I stand with you.
I comfort myself in that surely a hero would not play such cruel games of the heart. That a hero would be honest and forthcoming, but then I remember I am not but evil and cruel. Do the rules of the game apply to a known criminal? Or is this a taste of my own medicine? A careful plot laid out to seek vengeance for those I have wronged in the past? And this, this my hero, is the most terrifying part of it all. Riddled with doubt as I am, I cannot find the anger to protect myself. I have nothing with which to shield myself because you infiltrate my every thought and my defenses are so easily forgotten in the smiles that follow.
Please, my hero, I beg of thee, treat me well. My crimes were not those of malice and cruelty, though cruel they may have been. I am a product of my environment, angry with the way the world has treated me. Angry at how I let myself be treated. Never could I see the good in the world. Never have I had your shining, lit world. Take not pity on me, but guide me, teach me what there is to know of your world.
So terrified I am, that the good guys of the world are a lie. Or perhaps, they're not. I expressed my concerns once, in a flurry of words. I've loved the assholes and the egotistical pricks and I have gotten hurt. But if the nice guy, if the nice guy hurts me, then I can't blame it on the males. Then it's my fault. Then I'm just broken goods, to be used, abused, thrown aside without a thought. The idea is terrifying. What if I'll never be good enough? It's enough to drive any caring individual to selfishness, don't you think?
Ahh, but the joke is on me, isn't it, Hero? You've made up your mind, and even though I saw it coming, the blow didn't hurt any less. Sweet Hero, worry not for the damage you cause. The best of intentions often go awry. Evil is it's own comfort and I'll be fine. I am fine and I'm sorry. I worry that I'll lash out at the one person I've ever seen as a good guy. I'm sorry. I should have kept my distance. Opposites attract, but the collision can produce such fireworks. I knew better than this.
I'll miss you, my Hero. Take care, stay bright. I think I'll keep my shadows for now, but maybe some day, some day, I'll get around to doing what's right. Maybe some day, I'll forget to be angry.

Darkly yours,
Villainess
 
Nothing is worse than a villain who believes he is a hero and can convince others of the same, they may be actual heroes or a clever rouse. Who can tell?
 
Lieutenant Ducky said:
Thank you, Kite.


And I'm quite sure I can't tell, Anansi. I thought I could, but at this point, I have no idea.
Click to expand...
To love at this point would be the hardest but truest of all. Admitting you cannot tell then accepting it but trusting the other person to not be or become that villain. Within all relationships is a seed for elation, or agony, however you have to plant and care for the seed to see what fruit it bares, may be one you need, may be a whole forest but from what Ive seen of your charm, wit, and tenacity you have quite the green thumb and will be prepared when you do find that special seed.
 
You're point is a little convoluted, I had to re-read a few times, but very sweet.
Thank you, Anansi, for the lovely compliment.

And I haven't forgotten your promise. Lols
 
Id have a better chance of winning the lottery dear than having that promise come into play, but I can dream.
 
Something that came out of a dream, and perhaps my most recent struggle with depression. Just a fun bit of writing to try to explain to a friend why I don't like potato peelers.



The white porcelain of the bathroom always aggravated her. Just stepping into this blindingly sterile environment brought bile up to the back of her throat, day after day after day. No color, just white. White tile floor, white tiled walls, white painted ceiling, white toilet, white bath tub, white shower curtain, white towels, white bars of soap on the white sink top. Even the toothbrush holder held her white toothbrush. Silver offered little excitement to the scene, and any clothes left on the floor were gathered up quickly enough and deposited into the white laundry basket. Standing in this room, even the pale of her flesh in the mirror seemed vivid, alive with color. The shock of her green eyes and black hair in this setting always surprised her, making her feel as if she were trespassing, when in fact, it was just her bathroom.

And like every morning, she stands naked in front of the mirror, those bright eyes focusing in on every little flaw on the outside, because otherwise, she'd be thinking about those flaws that run so much deeper. The reasons why she lets those she cares about trample all over her. The reasons why she blames their actions on herself, on her personality. The deeply rooted low self esteem that makes up every young girl. The self loathing that fills every heart so desperate for a fairy tale love to distract from the pain of not being happy with oneself. The sort of love she couldn't find. Because it was so easy to fall for her pretty face, her flawless skin, her thin shape and modest curves, but the interior? Well, that was much harder to love.

But today was different. Her body was free of angry red marks, not a scar of past blemishes adorning her milky white skin. Not a day past her by that she did not think about the sensation of a razor sliding through her skin, the heat of the cut later in the day as the fabric of her clothes rubbed at the wound, that delightful secret indulgence of pain for the sake of pleasure, of release, of the physical form matching that of the emotional. But she had thrown away her favorite means, and today, there was a replacement.

On the sink, that damned white sink, was a silver handled potato peeler. It had taken her longer than anticipated to find one that was properly sharp, but this one, this one would accomplish her goal. Today, the white would recede. Today, red would be the color of choice. Today, her physical form would match her emotional state.

Picking up the previously innocent kitchen utensil, she places it against her ribs, pushes in and drags the blade down. The pain is dizzying, and even with her braced stance, the girl sways, but her determination stays true, as a flayed bit of flesh falls to the ground, much like a peeling, but messier. Blood gushes forth, rivers streaming down her bare legs, puddling slowly around her toes as she moves the peeler an inch over, to the side of her stomach, and she repeats the process.

An hour later, and her hand is shaking, as she struggles to press the blade in once more. She had long since lost the ability to stand, a bloody hand print on the tiles dragging it's way down to lie on the floor next to her, useless. Her now sickly pale skin, what is left intact, is stained red from the blood slipping from the ugly, gaping wounds left all around her body. Strips of flesh litter the area around her in hideous lumps. The sting of sweat finding its way into the gashes is a welcome change of pace, the sting a minor distraction from the dull ache of the earlier wounds, though nothing could keep her mind off the agonizing pain as she digs the blade in once more, carving a slice out of her flesh.

Down the stairs, a shout rings out. Her name. Possibly parents, possibly a concerned friend, perhaps even her most recent loved one? She couldn't make sense of the voice, her head had grown fuzzy. Shock was likely setting in. Falling forward, she crawls as best as she can across the clean white bathroom, leaving angry streaks of red across the tiles. With great effort, she hefts her body up and over the side of the bath tub, curling up comfortably in the porcelain, her cheek searingly hot against the cold surface. The exertion had her blood flowing again, rivers making their way down to the drain, a little more color in this hated bathroom. A final thought, and with some difficulty, she traces as best she can in the mess she had made getting into the bathroom, "Love me now."
 
Thanks, DUCKY. Every time I see a potato peeler from now on, I'm likely to think of that story.

-shivers-
 
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