i lost my faith

“I’ve been sitting here for four hours thinking about what I should do. I don’t want to go home. I fucked up again. I’ve been a drug addict my whole life. But I was clean for three months. I got a job at a call center. I was doing well. Then as soon as I got my paycheck, I went out drinking with some coworkers. Just a normal thing. But then I tried a little coke, went on a binge, and lost my job. Same story as always. And now I don’t want to go home. I live with my mother. She’s never lost faith in me. My brother was killed in the army so I’m her only son. She doesn’t deserve this. She was so happy that I had a job. She’d convinced herself that things were finally going to be OK. And I’ve got to go home and tell her what happened. And I don’t want to do it. She’s not even going to be mad. She’ll just be so hurt. Then she’ll ask me if I’ve eaten.”

(Bogotá, Colombia)

mom: i’m so glad you’re not into weird japanese cartoons and those diabolic things



PRODUCE 101 S02 fav trainee ( 2 / ? ) : ong seongwoo 

I have never been more confused and frankly disgusted by a human being more than I have just been. I saw a comment on YouTube where someone thought it would be a terrific idea if Kylo ren got his hair cut in the next film. A human being looked at the perfection which is Kylo’s hair and thought “yeah, that should be cut, that would improve things”. I’m going to need some time to process things but perhaps it’s best just to accept that every YouTube comment is more ludicrous than the last.

anonymous asked:

WHERE are the fics in which John has to explain to Sherlock that he wanted to bang his sister because I swear he would have had to have told him before Sherrinford lol

“So the woman I met as Faith—you’re saying that was my long lost sister?”

“That’s what she said, yes.”

“And she was pretending to be your therapist, as well?  Fascinating.”

“Yeah.  Plus she was also…”  John trailed off.  


“Do you want some tea?  I could murder a cuppa right now.”

Sherlock frowned.  "You were going to say something.  Something about this person…  Eurus.  She was also…  what?“

"Nothing.  It’s nothing.  In fact, I’ve forgotten.”

“Or should I say ‘whom’?  Did she have yet another disguise?”

John shook his head. “Couldn’t have. Impersonating three separate people, just to get close to us?  That’d just be silly.”  John rocked back and forth on his heels, his hands shoved innocently into his pockets. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

“You’re hiding something. Why?”

“Just forget it.”

“Who else could Eurus possibly have disguised herself as?  Neither of us associate with many people, and the ones we do, we’ve known for a long time. She can’t have been impersonating Molly or Mary or Mrs Hudson.”

“No, certainly not.”

“And we don’t know any other women.”


Sherlock stared long and hard at John, clearly deducing every single thread, button, or smudge on his body. John squirmed.  

Suddenly Sherlock let out a gasp.

“Oh, here it is,” said John, covering his face with one hand.

“The woman on the bus!  Your affair.”  Sherlock stared into the distance, the full horror of the situation seeming to dawn on him by degrees.  "John.  You cheated on Mary…  with my sister.

John sighed and sank into his chair. "It was only texting!  I swear.”

Sherlock slumped into his own chair, looking dazed.

“My sister.”  He quirked an eyebrow at John. “So…  ”


“Is she a lot like me?  In any specific ways?”

“Oh, Christ.  No one’s ever going to believe I’m not in love with you, are they?”

so… Bellamy most likely finds out Octavia is alive next episode, so what was the purpose of the fake out and Bellamy’s anguish besides it being “dramatic”? 

There better be some emotional pay off for Bellamy’s character with this whole thing. 

If the only purpose was to make Echo more sympathetic somehow, I will punch someone. 

Clarke and Bellamy need some development already, please. 

“Millennials were told that they were special, that they could be anything if they tried hard enough.”

Who were you that you were told that? Where did you grow up that you got that “just for trying” trophy everyone is speaking about? What was it like, thinking you could exceed? I lost faith in jobs in 2008 when my family lost everything. I have been working since I was 12. I never thought I was special because for every talent I had there was someone better than me. The average number of colleges applied to in my high school was 11. The average acceptance rate was 3 to 7. We knew we weren’t going to get our reach school. We knew we weren’t good enough. My friends died because of that. For every person i know who had it easy I know forty who are struggling. Who can’t afford an education or health insurance or who has to choose between feeding their family and their future. None of us ever got a trophy. And if we did it didn’t make us think we were good for trying, it made us aware we didn’t try hard enough for the real thing.

Who were you that you were never called stupid or bossy or loud or weird. Who was told that you could succeed being who you were when the rest of us had nothing. My last name meant I couldn’t be a CEO. Hispanic genes. Who were you that you never got tripped up by your sexuality, never had something denied you because of your gender. Never told to get back into the kitchen, never told that trans people are just sick. I’m just asking.

It would have been nice to have that kind of a life.


Caturday stream of consciousness. Almost all I have is selfies right now, because I’m really pushing hard to accept my physical self.

I envy those of you who are always perfectly made up and put together. I am a hot mess most of the time. I fall asleep in my makeup (when I wear it) more often than not. I hate my body or make peace with it depending on my current mood. Being ill isn’t helping. I have always verged on being intentionally undone, probably as a subconscious way of testing whether Nick would leave me if I weren’t attractive. He just kept on thinking I was, regardless of lack of makeup or dressing up. Neither aging nor weight gain could prevent him from loving me and finding me desirable. I don’t know what to do with that.

Also, I have apparently become one of those middle aged women that refuses to dress appropriately for my age and weight.

Unrelated (?), I saw a kid get baptized on a friend’s Instagram today. I immediately got palpitations and felt nauseated. Despite all reason, I still sometimes crave the safety of my lost faith. But I am constantly triggered by Christianity. It physically makes me ill. I don’t know how I could go back, even to a mainstream church.

Thank you, friends, for putting up with my idiosyncrasies. You guys mean a lot to me.

I believe Jehovah Jireh
I believe there’s heaven, I believe in war
I believe a woman’s temple
Gives her the right to choose but baby don’t abort
I believe that marriage isn’t
Between a man and woman but between love and love
And I believe you when you say that you’ve lost all faith
But you must believe in something
You gotta believe in something

I still believe in man
A wise one asked me why
Cause I just don’t believe we’re wicked
I know that we sin but I do believe we try
We all try

I don’t believe in time travel
I don’t believe our nation’s flag is on the moon
I don’t believe our lives are simple
And I don’t believe they’re short, this is interlude
I don’t believe my hands are cleanly
Can’t believe that you would let me touch your heart
She didn’t believe me when I said that I lost my faith
You must believe in something
You gotta believe in something

—  Frank Ocean, We All Try
prayer request sorta

Can you guys pray for me perhaps? I don’t know. I’m struggling in my faith. I’ve lost every bit of my fire and passion for God. I think of Him and there’s no instant response but slight disgust and unrest. There’s no feeling of peace. I feel empty towards Him and now I feel empty in my life. I’m kind of depressed and I feel so lost.

I have a strong feeling that He exists, and that the whole Biblical narrative is true, but I don’t want to accept it and believe it. I’m afraid, I suppose. And, feeling empty towards God, I don’t feel as if I particularly need to serve Him. I don’t love Him, so why serve Him? I don’t want to follow Him. But yet I feel that I should. I feel like He’s pulling at me, calling for me, but I don’t have the will or strong desire to give in.

I don’t know. I just… I need something to fuel my fire and my faith again. I’m like a dead woman walking.