So I sent this to Millbee

[celestepastore]

I'll get caught up eventually, and I wanted to say how glad I was to find you. I'm starting to learn that you and I have some of the same veiwpoints on various things, mostly just life in general, and finding someone like you always makes me feel a little less alone in this wide, sometimes not-so-nice world of ours.

 

(More private fanletter-y stuff that you can read if you want, but I'd prefer you at least keep it off camera.)

I went through a large period of my life, seeing all the hate that can happen in the world, all the things the dark side of humanity can do to its brothers, and it always made my heart sick. I have bipolar depression, and most people think that is why. Even if this may be the case, I've always been very aware of the world around me and, more specifically the emotions of the people around me. People have told me I have an uncanny ability to see through people's "masks", those walls and fake faces that we are or feel obligated to put on in public in order to keep people from sticking their noses into our personal dramas.

 

I really tried to do that. I quickly found out I couldn't.

 

I think it was really a combination of the bullying I endured, the stress of my home life (Dad was a pretentious, promiscuous womanizer who could sometimes be abusive, Mom was a lazy leech who unloaded all her problems on me when I was far too young to know what to do about it) and the fact that, because of my "ability" to know when people were upset, and because of my kind-hearted nature, I was always, usually voluntarily, people's amateur psychologist. I was that friend that everyone could go to for advice, support, or just to vent if they needed. And I loved it. I loved being able to help people in that way, because I wanted someone to do that for me. The rub lay in the fact that I was never willing to unload on anyone else that way. I just didn't want to burden anyone else with my problems and, for the most part, I didn't think anyone else would understand.

 

When I did find people who I felt would understand, they were on the internet, and they were usually somewhat famous, or had a large following. In my book, that makes them unreachable. I had sent one or two messages to a couple of them, received a couple replies, and that was the extent of the communication between us, aside from my comments on their content.

 

It wasn't enough.

 

I had several meltdowns throughout high school. Most were done quietly, at home in my room, at school in bathroom stalls, and I recall having one in the councilor's office.

 

It was the few I had in public that made a mess of things.

 

I had already been mocked, teased, heckled... What followed when I had public outbursts were nothing short of alienation. Even people who I thought were my friends began to shy away, and the bullying became far more subtle and secretive, because I think they became afraid of me going off on them.

 

My savior, along with the people on youtube who got me through the day, was Choir. Not only was it an outlet for my emotion, but I made connections there that still exist to this day. Even when those people saw my outbursts, instead of shying away they reached forward, asking what they could do, offering help and support when it was most desperately needed.

 

Eventually, I was able to do for myself. I stopped acting out and kept my meltdowns secret. I left my dad's house at 18, walking out into the night at 10 PM (I had to. Wouldn't have done it that way if there was any other choice.) and showing up on the doorstep of a very good friend at about 3 AM after a 10 mile walk, about to pass out from exhaustion. I got my grades back to a steady average but for one class. (I almost failed, and almost didn't graduate). I came back from it all, moved away from my home state and made a life for myself. One I enjoy very much.

 

But the old one still haunts me. I've been diagnosed with PTSD from my dad's abuse and a little from the bullying. I can't watch some movies without crying and clenching my fists with rage because what happens in them reminds me far too much of high school or my previous home life. And occasionally the bad memories well up to the surface again.

 

So why am I telling you all this? Well, because when the pain comes back, people like you bring me back out of my depressive cycles. You let me know there are people who are kind and good, people who can't stand all the hate-mongering just as much as I can't. There are people like you, Millbee, that, had circumstances been different, may have been friends with me, and would have definitely been there for me in my time of crisis.

 

I want you to do me one favor, Millbee. I want you to NEVER STOP bringing smiles to people's faces. I want you to keep streaming, keep making videos. Because you never know who needs you, who really needs to see that new content pop up in their inbox.

 

Whether you believe it or not, sometimes it can save a life.

 

Okay I think I've poured my heart out to you enough, assuming you read this. Feel free to delete this, and I'm sorry if it was awkward.

(End private, mopey, awkward personal story.)