is anyone else on this hill or is it just me and sisyphus and kate bush?
no idea if this is true, but it feels true
I heard an interview, can’t remember the psychologist, but he was explaining this idea and encouraging people to stop and take a deep breath and literally drink in small moments like you’re a dryass plant when something is ever satisfactory, positive, mildly successful, randomly joyful so your brain can code and integrate that experience because our natural lizard brain will quickly tape over it with mostly unnecessary negative survival shit. Sounds dumb and dorky but sometimes I remember this when I’m feeling good about a moment because our cave brains are still catching up with modern life without sabertooths. I like that it’s not just a pollyanna gosh just be more positive thing but more of a legit brain wiring phenomenon can be gradually hacked through small behavioral changes.
Another super important one: Take the time to tell yourself, when something you did or bought or decided works out “That was a good decision and I’m glad I made it! Go me!”
Seriously, it can have a huge impact. suddenly you go from remembering nothing but bad decisions to adding in a series of Excellent Choices You Feel Good About, and it makes things so much better.
oh your pronouns are he/they?
well that’s mathematically incorrect becuase you can still simplify the fraction since both sides have “he”
making your pronouns technically 1/ty
>:)
when the microwave says my leftover pasta is ready but the middle is still cold
megsdreadshredder
oh this is absolutely the wrong gif
WHEN the microwave says my leftover pasta is ready but the middle is still cold
two men could literally fuck in a marvel movie and it still wouldn’t be gay rep to me. sorry
OUGH what a beautiful bear....
i’ll show you REAL bisexuality *runs directly into the doorframe for some reason*
who are your parasocial enemies, like mine are andrew lloyd webber and butch hartman
“Is that Blackbeard?”
“no, I’m Blackbeard”
“😮”
“Shhh”
“😲😲😲😲”
“”
*😱 intensifies*
re-id-en-ti-fi-ed-deactivated20
i remember being taught by my butch lesbian neighbor how to figure out if a button-down shirt fits properly, and her femme wife teaching me how to tie a tie. it was in my dining room that we used as a makeshift nursery for my sister. the walls were blood red, and the floors and ceiling were dark. the whole world felt like it was suffocating you in that room, much like life felt for me at the time. i was fifteen years old, and it had been seven months since my mother had last spoken to me. my father was drinking. i was failing my classes partially because my brain couldnt stop projecting old home movies onto the backs of my eyelids and i couldnt stay present and partially to see if anyone would notice. no one did. no one but my neighbors.
they invited us over for dinner. the butch always greeted us while the femme finished dinner and we took off our shoes and one would take our coats and the butch would clap her hand on my shoulder, and the femme would touch my elbow gently while she took out my chair. they fed us, we played board games, they talked openly about being gay. they held hands across the dining table, and twirled their wedding rings, neither seeming to notice they were doing it. watching them methodically work, hosting this beautiful dinner, moving together like two pieces of an intricate puzzle, like weaving together yarn and hemp, like gears, like one soul split evenly between two bodies–
i had never seen love like that. i had never met women like them. women who wore athletic sandals in november. women who wore sundresses with denim and cowboy boots and called her wife “sonnyboy,” whose wife was always quite put together, button-down buttoned to the top, tie straight (with the constant help of her wife), hair short & cropped to the scalp all the way round. women who both did the dishes.
i didn’t know love like that was an option. i had only been shown angry, volatile love. i didn’t know i could be a woman like that. or rather, i didn’t know i could be loved as that kind of a woman. i had been taught that women like that are lonely. they’re ugly. but i watched her. her crisp leather jacket, her darkwash, baggy jeans on summer days that she folded once over her brown boots with the yellow shoelaces. she wasn’t ugly. i watched her, and i bought brown boots.
au where eberytjings the same but they have to go to five guyd
I need to share this to the world we’ve gone full circle.
And I know you don't know what I'm capable of.
But in time you'll taste all the salt in my lungs.
And I see things I actually don't see.
I knew it wasn't actually you a few feet from my reach.
I looked into your eyes and I began to lose my teeth,
And I felt you were dreaming the same thing.
i think people who collect funko pops are insane and demented but i also think it’s funny how common the experience is for people my age to have gotten like a single very specific one as a gift and don’t want to get rid of it and now it just lives in their house. … and you have to explain no I do not support the funko pop craze but this is my [whatever] from [whoever]. I brought this up on twitter once and the pairings of specific singular funko pop to who owned it were like actually hilarious