I wanted to vent but I forgot what I wanted to vent about so eh.
everyone calling dan heng the “braincell holder” of the express trio needs to reconsider. this is the guy who went along with entering a fight club competition and grinded till he reached the semi finals—immediately after waking up post-chemical knockout. he’s just as chaotic as mc and march, he just hides it better.
would you guys be okay with intimate display of affection between two girls who are thematically opposites on your dash
I just wanna say bc I KNOW you're somewhere on tumblr, to the teenage girl who attended Take Your Kid To Work Day at an office building in Ontario, Canada circa 2013 and had a conversation with a middle aged woman in which you showed her your Black Veil Brides fanart and fanfics and ship content and told her about different fanfic tropes including a/b/o verse bc she happened to know who Panic! at The Disco and Fallout Boy were and thus you felt the need to show her your bandblr ship art, that was my fucking mother and I had to clarify all that to her including looking my mother in the eye and trying to explain a/b/o verse without sounding like a lunatic.
It's been 10 years and I still regularly sent evil energies in your direction. Since you'd be probably two years younger than me and thus legally an adult now, please know if this post reaches you it's on sight.
I have to remember every 5 years that when I was a little kid my dad was having obsessive spirals about things he did wrong like 30 years prior and his talked to his therapist about it and you know what they did NOT say. They did not say "hmmm well have you learned your lesson changed your behavior and atoned?"
They said "that sounds like a really unhelpful and distressing thing that your brain is making you think about All The Time. How about when that happens you try to think about something that makes you happy instead"
(My dad carried a picture of me at age 4 with a large inflatable dinosaur in his wallet for this purpose) (hard to ruminate about past failures when looking at a picture of your kid enjoying a large inflatable dinosaur)
Anyway. Fucking... stop thinking you can Solve Ethics by spiraling you fool. It's the Ethics Cuckoo. Fuck that guy
So today she's fuming for no reason and has decided to get her it out of her system by yelling at me about my eating. She's stressed, I get that, frustrated about everything and having nothing to take it out on. I just kept arguing back to let her have something to keep yelling at. Obviously she rationally understands that I must be eating enough if I'm still gaining weight and I would strongly prefer if it would fucking stop already, but she doesn't want to be rational right now. She wants to be mad. So she can be mad at me all she wants, I'm the reason why she's like this in the first place anyhow.
This is angsty, wholesome, sad, and about five other things I can't describe.
If non-binary means you're identifying yourself as neither of the binary options aren't you adding a third option for EVERYONE. Doesn't that make everyone non-binary? Just a random thought idk.
Girlfriend got a phone call, I could vaguely hear the caller well enough to recognize the voice, but not to tell what she was saying. Questions my girlfriend answered, in order, getting progressively more defensive, irate, and confused:
- He's [Feral], he's from the house too.
- No, he's completely finnish. He was born here, his grandparents were born here.
- Yeah, we're together.
- It's not his leg, there's nothing wrong with his legs.
- He'll tell you himself if he wants to, I'm not telling.
- Well, we're not going to have a fucking farm.
- The what?
- Who told you that?
- You fucking what?
In conclusion, her great-grandma could apparently tell that she's pregnant from the way her eyelids look. As far as she was concerned she already knew everything that's important, she just wanted to call my girlfriend and ask her directly to see if she would lie about it.
And as far as her great-grandma is concerned, my best quality for the time being is that if I ran off, I probably wouldn't get very far with the cane.
From her fucking EYELIDS I'm sorry but what the fuck.
Sometimes you have dreams that feel so real that you have to spend some time processing that they weren't once you wake up.
Had a dream last night that I woke up in prison. I wasn't surprised to find myself there. I laid on my back on the shitty prison bunk, taking a moment to recall things that ended me up there. My girlfriend had miscarried and died of the complications. I had relapsed, hard, and killed my dealer. I laid there, listening to the sounds of the guards yelling and the other prisoners getting up for some morning routines that I actually have no idea about in waking life, but already knew in the dream by heart.
I realized that I actually had no idea if I had killed my dealer, or just some guy that had looked enough like him that I couldn't tell the difference while being so fucked up. It sunk into me that I hadn't known then and still couldn't recall from the vague memory. I had just hated him so much that I didn't care, I would rather risk killing an innocent man than letting a chance to kill him go to waste. I knew I had committed an unforgivable sin and realized that I really did not care, I could not make myself care about anything that would happen anymore in this life or whatever was beyond it.
I woke up from my own bed. It took me a moment to process that none of that had actually happened. My girlfriend had already gotten up, moments ago. The sheets still smelled like her sweat and the strawberry shampoo. I don't even fucking know what finnish prisons look like on the inside but in the dream it smelled like dust, damp iron and concrete. It occurred to me that even if I hadn't known whether I had killed the right man in the dream or not, I would have at least found out in court.
I love having realistic dreams because I can do whatever I want in them and they're usually silly but god damn is that scary. I can already barely tell reality from day dreams sometimes but something like that would be freaky af.
You ever think about getting a weaponized cane? Just for added threat factor?
I was about to lament that my favorite saying doesn't translate that well to english but apparently it does: The only truth is the one with proof. I've learned to flip my cane in my hand around in a way where I'm holding it by the top with the handle supported against my wrist, and learned to do that with enough ease to vaguely imply that I'd know how to use it, and that's an implied threat that's easy to deny if shit ever hit the fan and I actually got my ass beat.
But if I actually was carrying a weaponized cane, yeah there's no explaining to cops that it wasn't a weapon and wasn't about to be used as such. I can't actually fight for shit, so having legal, verifiable proof against me in a situation would only be a liability.
First rule of thumb in street smarts: Start with the assumption that you're going to get your ass beat. I'm not gambling on winning a fight any more than I'm gambling that I wouldn't ever start one.
#the more you know
















