Insecure - Tom Hiddleston Imagines Geared Towards Battling Insecurities

"Get Over Your Depression," "Just Stop Cutting," "No One Wants You Here"

A/N: For this part, each one will blend into the next, since it's all so interconnected. This is one that is especially close to me not only for personal reasons, but many of my friends, especially on here, are battling with one or many of these. A lot of what Tom says is advice either I have given and/or what has been given me. So this one is especially dedicated for them, for my fellow broken, yet courageous, Hiddlesisters. x

" G e t O v e r Y o u r D e p r e s s i o n "

It wasn't as easy as being happy all the time. It wasn't as easy as rolling out of bed and feeling unstoppable, like you were ready to face the world. It was as easy as getting a camel through the eye of a needle, as easy as, not Sunday morning, but a gloomy, miserable, endless Monday.

It's not a phase. It's a mental disorder.

You tried asking for help. Many times. But they didn't seem to care. After the divorce, you tried being strong, but the strained marriage put more and more pressure on you each and every day. How you ended up in theater was beyond your understand, how you ending up finding your passion was a miracle in itself.

How you ended up being friends with Tom Hiddleston was beyond words.

But even in the midst of someone wonderful, it seemed unreal, a life so perfect mocking you in your very face. After this production, you had nowhere to go. Your parents were mad at you, you were out of a job. You had been searching day and night, but no one ever contacted you back.

And Tom knew that. Each day, he would see the pain you tried so hard to mask. But he knew you better than you thought. He could see every dark circle, every dried up tear path, every sleepless night, every nightmare in your mind. He tried comforting you, and it did help, but it seemed like one step forward, two steps back; every time you think you were standing on solid ground, it would crumble beneath you.

"What's wrong with me?" you ask him. "I feel so small, lost and crushed in this world."

"There's nothing wrong with you," he says, pulling you into a hug. "I know you feel like you're being pulled back, but soon you'll be launched like an arrow, and you'll soar farther than you ever expected."

"But I'm not strong enough, Tom. I'm trying, I really am, but I'm falling apart."

Leaning back, he wipes away the tears that were falling down your cheek. "It might not seem this way now, but I promise you: it'll turn from Titanic to Titanium."

" J u s t S t o p C u t t i n g "

You tried, putting in more effort than you ever did. You even confessed to your parents, trying to show that you weren't the tough-as-nails child they believed you to be. Halfheartedly, they dismissed you, yelled at you even for reasons you didn't understand. You thought this would be the breakthrough you needed.

Boy were you wrong. The pieces of the puzzle didn't seem to fall into place, but they seemed to jumble further.

You didn't want to feel this way. You didn't want to feel worthless, miserable, like you were fifty feet under rock bottom. You didn't want to feel so pitiful. You didn't want to feel.

The only thing you craved to touch was relief. Control, emotions pouring out and not feeling so constrained. You had been clean for so long, but Tom was gone away for filming. There was no one to stop you.

One cut...two cuts...multiplied to twenty-three, to fifty-seven, spread from your wrists to your forearms to your thighs. And the sad part was that it felt good, feeling your flaming skin being cooled with red liquid, like your emotions were running out of you and exposed and accepted for what they were.