lyn.
can i get a bacon egg and cheese
cathy
filler
filler
filler
filler
filler
filler
- home (filler tab)
mood
anxious
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outfitclick
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filler
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location
food court
filler
interactions
lucas
filler
- home (filler tab)
taylor swift
fortnight (acoustic)
Cathy had a nightmare.
She didn’t remember it. Her dreams usually consisted of her mother, of pianos and violins and every cringy thing you would expect from a girl with such first world problems. Things that would stay in her mind for only a few minutes in the morning before she found herself distracted. Her mother was a problem she faced everyday, her sleeping mind says nothing that her awake one hasn’t already told her again and again.
This dream was different, it was dark. It left her hackles raised, jumpy, anxiety rising at every corner she turned. All she could remember was the feeling of falling, of losing her breath, of desperation. It was there, in the back of her mind the whole day. Her friends had noticed, yet they never asked, never pressed. She was usually thankful that they gave her their space, except that’s all they every did.
Sandra would ask, she always asked. She always comforted Cathy with no complaint, no ask for anything in return. It was something Cathy wanted to change, she wanted to ask Sandra how she felt when she was upset. She wanted to be the same friend to Sandra that she was to her instead of taking advantage of the girl at every turn.
Of course, Sandra wasn’t fucking real. As said to her by everyone she’s spoken to in the past seven days. As said by the missing photos she had pinned to her wall and her roommate she hasn’t seen in three days after she angrily accused her of stealing them. It seems Cathy had really, truly, lost her mind. She created an imaginary best friend to help with her own shitty problems, and now her mind was making fun of her for it. Torturing her with dreams she couldn’t remember when she could remember Sandra oh-so clearly.
Cathy tugged at her knitted sleeve, head squished onto the cold food court table as she listened to her friends talk. They were planning to go to a party after their classes, a party Cathy had suggested they go to last week. She already dreaded it. Her disquiet had given her a headache, something that alcohol wouldn’t fix no matter how much she wanted to drown herself in that moment.
“You’re coming right, Cath?” Jasmine asked, tapping her arm.
Her frown was hidden behind her hair, frizzy and itchy against her nose. Only Sandra called her Cath, since when did Jasmine start calling her Cath?
She hummed her affirmation and sat up, bringing up a hand to brush brown strands out of her face. Did she even brush it this morning?
Jasmine was speaking again, words that fell to deaf ears as her attention was caught by a semi-familiar face. Dark curls she swears she’s seen around Sandra before doing god-knows what, and Cathy found herself out of her seat.
She already hunted down the few people she knew Sandra frequented, all of which knew nothing of her name. Did she confuse this boy in her memory as well? Did he know Sandra, or was he another random face her fucked up mind decided to trick her with?
She approached, shoulders pulled back with confidence she lacked, her friends questions ignored. It wasn’t until she was right in front of him did she hesitate. She’s been looked at like she was insane this whole week, the thought of it happening again made her anxiety worsen. She already looked like a mess, no amount of jeans and cardigans could hide the bags under her eyes and the nest on her head. God, she probably looked crazy. She couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she knew it. There was no other explanation.
Still, she had just very pointedly approached him. She couldn’t back out now.
“Hey, do we have a class together or something? You look familiar. What’s your name?” And god that almost sounded like flirting, not that he was the worst looking dude she’s hit on. Usually she’s shit-faced and blind when she makes a move.
She snapped her fingers, feigning an epiphany as she pointed at him, “It starts with an L, right? L… It’s not Lenny, is it? Shit, my bad. I know we’ve met before, I probably seem like an asshole for forgetting your name. Unless you don’t know mine. Which is Cathy.”
She didn’t remember it. Her dreams usually consisted of her mother, of pianos and violins and every cringy thing you would expect from a girl with such first world problems. Things that would stay in her mind for only a few minutes in the morning before she found herself distracted. Her mother was a problem she faced everyday, her sleeping mind says nothing that her awake one hasn’t already told her again and again.
This dream was different, it was dark. It left her hackles raised, jumpy, anxiety rising at every corner she turned. All she could remember was the feeling of falling, of losing her breath, of desperation. It was there, in the back of her mind the whole day. Her friends had noticed, yet they never asked, never pressed. She was usually thankful that they gave her their space, except that’s all they every did.
Sandra would ask, she always asked. She always comforted Cathy with no complaint, no ask for anything in return. It was something Cathy wanted to change, she wanted to ask Sandra how she felt when she was upset. She wanted to be the same friend to Sandra that she was to her instead of taking advantage of the girl at every turn.
Of course, Sandra wasn’t fucking real. As said to her by everyone she’s spoken to in the past seven days. As said by the missing photos she had pinned to her wall and her roommate she hasn’t seen in three days after she angrily accused her of stealing them. It seems Cathy had really, truly, lost her mind. She created an imaginary best friend to help with her own shitty problems, and now her mind was making fun of her for it. Torturing her with dreams she couldn’t remember when she could remember Sandra oh-so clearly.
Cathy tugged at her knitted sleeve, head squished onto the cold food court table as she listened to her friends talk. They were planning to go to a party after their classes, a party Cathy had suggested they go to last week. She already dreaded it. Her disquiet had given her a headache, something that alcohol wouldn’t fix no matter how much she wanted to drown herself in that moment.
“You’re coming right, Cath?” Jasmine asked, tapping her arm.
Her frown was hidden behind her hair, frizzy and itchy against her nose. Only Sandra called her Cath, since when did Jasmine start calling her Cath?
She hummed her affirmation and sat up, bringing up a hand to brush brown strands out of her face. Did she even brush it this morning?
Jasmine was speaking again, words that fell to deaf ears as her attention was caught by a semi-familiar face. Dark curls she swears she’s seen around Sandra before doing god-knows what, and Cathy found herself out of her seat.
She already hunted down the few people she knew Sandra frequented, all of which knew nothing of her name. Did she confuse this boy in her memory as well? Did he know Sandra, or was he another random face her fucked up mind decided to trick her with?
She approached, shoulders pulled back with confidence she lacked, her friends questions ignored. It wasn’t until she was right in front of him did she hesitate. She’s been looked at like she was insane this whole week, the thought of it happening again made her anxiety worsen. She already looked like a mess, no amount of jeans and cardigans could hide the bags under her eyes and the nest on her head. God, she probably looked crazy. She couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this. Her mind was playing tricks on her, she knew it. There was no other explanation.
Still, she had just very pointedly approached him. She couldn’t back out now.
“Hey, do we have a class together or something? You look familiar. What’s your name?” And god that almost sounded like flirting, not that he was the worst looking dude she’s hit on. Usually she’s shit-faced and blind when she makes a move.
She snapped her fingers, feigning an epiphany as she pointed at him, “It starts with an L, right? L… It’s not Lenny, is it? Shit, my bad. I know we’ve met before, I probably seem like an asshole for forgetting your name. Unless you don’t know mine. Which is Cathy.”
♡coded by uxie♡