vaspim1fag9392bitch383slut: there are more juggalos on earth than there are polar bears. if that isnt enough to make you care about global warming then i dont know what is
I’m so tired of coming home to an empty house going to bed in an empty house waking up in an empty house because everyone in my life is busy and has places to be and things to do. There is no place I’m needed, wanted, or expected. It would be nice, just once in awhile, to wake up and have someone be there. Someone who says, good morning, and hugs me and tells me to have a good...
Weirdly enough, sex with you makes me feel put together. That’s the only way to explain it. After, all the fragments of me that seemed floating, escaping, disappearing: they are all back in the right places. How strange is that? Afterward, I can eat and sleep like a normal person. I can take a deep breath and cease to recall all the shit that’s breaking me slowly, every day. It makes...
when you know something in your head, like: “It wasn’t my fault” “I’m not a weak person” but your in your heart it’s still: “Wasn’t it, though?” “Aren’t I?” And you’re always in this uphill battle to align what you know intellectually with what you know emotionally.
Sometimes I’m being facetious and sarcastic and tongue-in-cheek about things like really messed up things and people who know me really really well still can’t figure out if I’m being serious or not. Sometimes I can’t either. My motto is laugh now, cry later. Disarm shitty things with wisecracks and make everyone in the room really uncomfortable with their worldview....
whatmutantpoweristhis asked: What you went through has affected you deeply, but it is no mark upon your character. You are not 'damaged goods' or 'not good enough'. You are not the sum of your bad experience. It does not make you any less. You are you, an important, worthy person. Do not waste time or emotions on anyone that cannot see *you* instead of what you went through.
It really hurts to hear terms like, “damaged goods.” Every time anyone talks about how a romantic relationship with a survivor is undesirable, I shrink inside. Even if they don’t know what I went through and they’re just speaking innocently. I mean, it makes sense to be up front about your emotional unavailability. But phrasing? Instead of, “I don’t want to...
If you’ve never been mentally ill (pausing to acknowledge the argument that the...– Carly is doing a track-by-track analysis of Transcendental Youth by the Mountain Goats and it’s so intelligent and beautifully written. Also, it’s occasionally painfully accurate in a way that simultaneously makes you a little uncomfortable that someone put your brain on display but also extremely...
I feel numb and dumb, and unable to lay hands on any words.– Sylvia Plath; “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath” (via 8h22)
What gaslighting did to me, and other...
You know what’s really ironic? Even if I was sane as hell before (I really can’t fucking remember anymore) I’ve got a few screws loose now. Cause every time I feel something deeply in my core, in my head it’s, “you’re crazy, you’re emotional, you don’t make sense, you’re stupid, you’re a liar” And if I try to rationalize it...
I’m so tired of everything. Being broke. Being sad. Getting shafted at work over something fucking stupid. Having to look for something else. Missing my brother. Worrying about my Grandma. Being behind in school. Being overwhelmed. Unfinished shit all around me. My gas light always being on. My stomach always growling. My meds running out. Bills. Unavailable friends. Lonely. ...
Afghanistan: Round 2
I thought I was so good at goodbyes. I used to think, this is just the way it is, and deal with it accordingly. And I think I’d forgotten what it felt like the last time, hugging you goodbye and not knowing if I’d ever be able to again. For the next seven to ten months there will be a flag-wrapped casket sitting on the back burner, three rifle volleys playing on loop in the periphery...
The offer of friendship was on the table 10 months ago, before you broke my table banging whomever in my bed and threw an absolute hissy fit because I left you, complete with emotional coercion and actual meanness. 10 months ago, I said, let’s be friends. And you couldn’t do that. You had to be spiteful and shitty and immature and I can’t stand you anymore, truth be told. It...
Last night I dreamed that you said, “I love you,” and I stopped what I was doing, laughed. Sharp and nervous. I said, “What? Really?” And you said, “yes!” and I said, “I love you too.” I woke up freaked out and sad.
i don’t know if I can tell you anything. But if I tried, it’d sound something like, I’ve been really scared and lonely lately. Something I carry with me is this fluttery pain in my stomach and it feels like being unwanted. It feels like not good enough and not smart enough and too weird. Too weird too weird too crazy. And that pain stems from years of abuse and pain and being...
there is an ocean of secrets I don’t share with you because I’m afraid that if I let one or two out the tide will rip the floodgates off their hinges and sweep you far away from me I won’t be able to stop myself and I’ll rip myself open and you’ll do what any sane person does and bail, so you don’t have to drown here with me. I know I’m getting older...
Famous paintings improved with cats →
You’re intoxicating and I am stumbling. You’ll lose interest and I’ll remember how foolish I am.
I fucking hate being misunderstood. And then when I attempt to be heard, being shut down.
A: "I don't let anyone touch me."
P: "Why not?"
A: Why not? Because I was tired of men. Hanging in doorways, standing too close, their smell of beer or fifteen-year-old whiskey. Men who didn't come to the emergency room with you, men who left on Christmas Eve. Men who slammed the security gates, who made you love them and then changed their minds. Forests of boys, their ragged shrubs full of eyes following you, grabbing your breasts, waving their money, eyes already knocking you down, taking what they felt was theirs.
P: "Are you gay?"
It rips me to shreds inside that I can’t even say it. I can’t speak the words, I can’t tell anyone the truth. It’s a sick world and I can’t trust anyone and you’re both just walking around enjoying your lives, sleeping at night and knowing you did it all right. What one of you took from me the other decided to use as an excuse to abuse and take from me...
This is too much to ever tell you, but, I am so happy that everything in my life has gone the way it has. I’m so happy I somehow ended up on your couch, watching movies and shooting the shit. I’m so happy I get to pet your spazzy dog and do fun things with you. You’ll get sick of me eventually but for now, I’m elated that I get to see your face almost every day. I...
I so resent this world that forces us to live with knives drawn, or be cut.
I’m falling. And I know it’s going to hurt when I hit the ground. It’s going to hurt so bad. Stepping off the edge was simply too irresistible. I couldn’t help it and now there will be no one waiting at the bottom to catch me.
Every time you hit the bottle you broke my fucking heart. What’s worse is you blame me for the failure of our relationship. What a crock of fucking shit.
I feel so exposed and afraid and I’m not sure of what. Everyone I’ve ever trusted was a deceiver. I’ve been unimportant to the people who mattered to me way too much. And sure, they come around now and tell me how important I was, and how I’m still important now, but it doesn’t mean a thing. Words mean nothing. And what people have done to me speaks volumes. ...