why the fuck is it so hard to find a feminist theoretical framework where “butches aren’t men and don’t reproduce heterosexuality have male privilege” and “trans women aren’t men and don’t have male privilege” are both valid statements

it’s been about 9 and a half months since i cut communication with O but. i Still feel a lot of things whenever they come to mind (which is often). the more thoughtful part of me feels pity for them, bc it must be miserable to live a life where you can’t empathize with others and constantly require attention from your “peers”, even if it is to their emotional/mental detriment. it must be horrible to be so inconsistent in self-worth and yet so caught in the throes of narcissism that you feel like you have to destroy other people to edify yourself.
meanwhile, the less thoughtful part of me is caught in this torrent that is equal parts agony and indignant rage. it asks those pointed questions like, ‘how dare they treat me like that after everything i did to help them! how dare they abuse me like that!’ but is also ready to supply pleasant memories that make me ache for the parts of them that made them my best friend. im really ready for all this eternal conflict to stop. i hope to someday be able to forgive them (even if it is just to myself) for all the harm they did to me. i cant honestly say that forgiveness could be issued just yet, but maybe someday

shewhorantstoomuch  asked:

all of overwatch is basically just everyone struggling to remember the english terms for things

WIDOW: where is the … COMMENT DITES-VOUS … la louche??
TRACER: the fuck is a ‘loosh’
MERCY: she means … you know, uh, die pfanne ..
REINHARDT: it has to be here somewhere in one of the drawers
TRACER: i know where everything is just tell me in english
MCCREE: el cucharon
TRACER: english
TORBJORN: skanken
LUCIO: a concha
TRACER: english, PLEASE, loves
MEI: 钢包
D.VA: 국자
ANA: المغرفة

Eu fixo meus olhos lá no Céu. Não sou daqui. Minha alma anela por voltar para casa. Para junto do meu Pai. Tudo que vivo aqui, é somente por enquanto. Nada me faz criar raiz. Haverá um dia, aquele tão esperado dia, que toda lágrima será apenas de alegria. Onde a dor, não mais terá poder sobre mim. Serei livre, enfim. Voarei alto. É tudo promessa dEle. Vou vê-lO sorrindo, a minha espera.
—  Bruna Miguel.