So I wanna start a project on how to deal with anon hate.
Step 1: If you are on a pc block the anon. On mobile just delete them.
Step 2: Go to your activities and send the last two people in there a lovely message. Wish them a nice day, tell them out your pet something like that.
Step 3: Watch how those message brighten their and your mood.
Results: The hater will wait for you to respond but you simply never do. You’ll get distracted from the hate while coming up with something nice. Your mood will be lifted! Because that’s how you fight hate. With supporting each other.
Tl, dr: Ignore the hate and send two lovely message for every hate you get to double the love!
He looked at the high ceilings, a large room to take in, and there were windows, but they were shut over with metal, which made the entirety of the walls silver metal. The parts that weren’t windows were black stone, obsidian, and there were silver chandeliers holding large white candles which lit the room brightly. There were large comfortable chairs everywhere, and there were many beings around, some he’d seen from afar, some he’d never seen, and they were all talking, some quietly, some loudly, and some sat alone, watching. There were many fireplaces, and they were lit, filling the room with warmth, and then Sun nudged Loki, and he blinked, looking at the Monkey King.
“I know it’s a lot to take in…but you’re a visitor, and I have to take you to see the master and the mistress.” He said, and Loki nodded, and he followed Sundown corridors lined with the shiny black stone, deeper and deeper into the place, and then Sun knocked on a large ornamental black and silver and violet door. There was no knob, but it swung open silently.
“Are you coming with me?” Loki asked, for on the other side of the door was black. Sun shook his head.
“Achilles was looking at me. “Your hair never quite lies flat, here.” He touched my head, just behind my ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how I like it.”
My scalp prickled where his fingers had been. “You haven’t,” I said.
“I should have.” His hand drifted down to the vee at the base of my throat, drew softly across the pulse. “What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here?”
“No,” I said.
“This surely then.” His hand moved across the muscles of my chest; my skin warmed beneath it. “Have I told you of this?”
“That you have told me.” My breath caught a little as I spoke.
“And what of this?” His hand lingered over my hips, drew down the line of my thigh. “Have I spoken of it?”
“And this? Surely I would not have forgotten this.” His cat’s smile. “Tell me I did not.”
“You did not.”
“There is this too.” His hand was ceaseless now. “I know I have told you of this.”
I closed my eyes. “Tell me again,” I said.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
Cuando encuentras a alguien con quien los silencios no resultan incómodos, sabes que está en tu vida por una muy buena razón pero, joder, no te calles, háblame de todo lo que pasa por tu mente, quiero saber hasta el más mínimo detalle de ti.