i should just commit

       ( a collection of sentence starters derived from some of my favorite lyrics from today’s current mainstream hits. a little bit of everything. enjoy! )

❛ i’ve been reading books of old. 
❛ i clearly don’t see myself on that list. 
❛ where’d you wanna go? 
❛ i’m not looking for somebody with some superhuman gifts. 
somewhere along the lines we stopped seeing eye-to-eye.
who’s waking up to drive you home when you’re drunk and all alone?
i could give a thousand reasons why.
we don’t have to grow up.
all you have to do is wait a second.
the clock is ticking, so stay.
i’ve never been the best at letting go.
i don’t wanna spend the night alone.
you do shit on purpose. you get mad and you break things, feel bad, try to fix things.
you’ve got hands like an ocean, push you out, pull you back in.
i’ve got issues, but you’ve got ‘em too.
i don’t wanna fight right now.
we’re running out of time.
i’m calling it a night now.
i think we should rule out commitment for now.
you’re just doing that to get even.
i don’t like my mind right now.
i want to let go but there’s comfort in the panic.
i drive myself crazy.
why is everything so heavy?
i’m pretty sure the world is out to get me.
it’s not like i make the choice to let my mind stay so fucking messy.
i will be right by your side.
‘no thank you,’ is what i should’ve said.
i should be in bed.
my habits hold me like a grudge.
i’m fired up and tired of the way things have been.
don’t you tell me what you think that i can be.
i was broken from a young age.
you made me a believer.
let the bullets fly.
it feels like i don’t know you anymore.
i see there’s something going on.
i don’t understand why you’re so cold to me.
you know how to fuck with me.
if you wanna leave, just leave.
if you don’t want this, then what’s the use? ❜
you brought me here, and I’m happy that you did.
i always thought i would sink, so i never swam.
sometimes i get so scared of what i can’t understand.
i’d spend my life just standing here talking.
sometimes i feel like i’m drowning and you’re there to save me.
for a minute, i was stone-cold sober.
i think that you should get some rest.
your love is more than worth its weight in gold.
i’ll thank my lucky stars for that night.

The Stages of  Grief (Herpes Edition)

I woke up on a Monday morning; after a Sunday night of rough sex. I went to the bathroom and could barely get anything out. Great, I have a UTI because I fell asleep right after. *Eye-roll*
Days go by, I’m drinking tons of water, drinking sugar-free cranberry juice. My UTI is not letting up. I should go see a doctor.
Thursday comes along and I have to go to the ER because I am in so much pain when I do pee. Extreme burning. Extremely fatigued. My bladder is spasming - which is painful. I get some antibiotics, and some medication to help with the bladder spasming. I am informed that if I vomit, I need to come back.
Friday at 4AM, I projectile vomit all over the bathroom. I resort to peeing in the shower because water helps take away the sting. I cry. I touch my labia, and that’s when I notice it… a bump. What the fuck is this? I take a picture (after getting out of the shower). Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I have herpes.
Friday at 10PM, I work up enough courage to go back to the ER. I get the visual diagnosis, and swabs done to confirm.

In the moments following the visual diagnosis. I am crying. My life is ruined. No one will love me. My boyfriend is going to accuse me of cheating, and I have done nothing wrong! Why does this hurt so bad? I should go over to his house and confront him! How is he going to do this to me?! He told me he got checked for STD’s and was clear! I shouldn’t have trusted him.

Why can’t I have chlamydia? What about gonorrhea? Why did I have to get something that’s incurable? Why me? What did I do wrong?

I didn’t move for days; with the exception of going to my partners house to inform him of my 2AM diagnosis. We cried together, and he apologized. I went home, called off work, and laid in bed. I cried. I wondered how I was going to tell my mom. What was she going to think of my boyfriend that she already didn’t like? Should I just commit suicide? Is life even worth living at this point?

This only came with research. Ninety percent of people have HSV. One in Five have genital herpes. I am not alone. I am not a minority. I can still have children. I can still live a normal life. I am a human being. I am not dirty. I did nothing wrong. Life is still worth living; it is beautiful, even when it’s painful.
Not everyone is worthy to know of my diagnosis. My mom doesn’t need to know. My gossipy friend does not need to know. The only person that needs to know is myself, my partner, and any future partners. Herpes does not change me, it does not make me.

  • tattoo guy: what do you want it to say
  • me: okay uh i don't know this seems like a bad idea getting a tattoo is such a commitment maybe i should just go plus i'm tight on cash anyways i really shouldn't spend it on this
  • tattoo guy: ok man your choice
  • me: oh no no no that's what i want it to say
What DR3 taught us about Mukuro Ikusaba

Fanon: A poor little cinnamon roll that just needs a hug and to get away from her abusive sister who only hurts her. Is better than she thinks. DR-IF is a tale where she leaves Junko and her Despair-Fetish because of friendship and love.  Literally did nothing wrong. Someone hug this child.

Canon: Has a sister-complex like crazy. Commits multiple murders in cold-blood. Is fully on-board with plunging the world into chaos. Assisted in a forced-lobotomy. DR-IF is a tale where she leaves Junko to try and cater to her Despair-Fetish by destroying rather than helping her plans. Is doing wrong as we speak. Someone stop this child.

listen Ka-CHING is the most iconic thing anyone in EXO has ever done and it’s a crime that it’s the Japanese debut of a subunit

I think I belong to demons and hell
Because I tend to burn people at the stake
For sins they have yet to commit
Because all I ever learn was that
People tend to leave and fall out of love
So I made it a goal of mine
To never be the last one holding on
But as I leave lovers and as I leave you
I am starting to realize
Loving so much that you decide to sink with the ship
Isn’t so bad after all
I want to find a way to reverse this mind set
And fall so deeply in love
I forget that I can swim

So yet again, I will set you free
Know that this was never meant to be
I am abandoning hope once again


I don’t really give people a chance.


anonymous asked:

In the books Sansa fantasizes about Slynt's death. She tries to goad Joffrey into getting himself killed at Blackwater. She covered up Lysa's murder. She's a good person in both show and book but she's not some perfect princess who never dreams of vengeance. And she never faced what Ramsay did to her.

Thanks for the opinion!

I think you missed a few moments:

She pictured the two of them sitting together in a garden with puppies in their laps, or listening to a singer strum upon a lute while they floated down the Mander on a pleasure barge. If I give him sons, he may come to love me. She would name them Eddard and Brandon and Rickon, and raise them all to be as valiant as Ser Loras. And to hate Lannisters, too. In Sansa’s dreams, her children looked just like the brothers she had lost. Sometimes there was even a girl who looked like Arya.

That seemed to amuse him. “Has someone made a song about Gregor Clegane dying of a poisoned spear thrust? Or about the sellsword before him, whose limbs Ser Gregor removed a joint at a time? That one took the castle from Ser Amory Lorch, who received it from Lord Tywin. A bear killed one, your dwarf the other. Lady Whent’s died as well, I hear. Lothstons, Strongs, Harroways, Strongs … Harrenhal has withered every hand to touch it.”

“Then give it to Lord Frey.”

“The damned thing’s as tall as I am,” Tyrion muttered in a low voice. “Half a chalice and Joff will be falling down drunk.”

Good, she thought. Perhaps he’ll break his neck.

She fantasizes about teaching her hypothetical Tyrell sons to hate Lannisters, she tells Littlefinger to give the cursed castle Harrenhal to Walder Frey and actively hopes for Joffrey’s death at the Purple Wedding. She is not a perfect princess, I agree. And she would be an inferior character if she was that. If she didn’t have these (really understandably) spiteful, fierce and ugly thoughts, she wouldn’t be a good person, she’d be a saint and lose me on her being my favorite character.

And, honestly? I really don’t begrudge her any of those thoughts. At all. In fact, I relate to them to a bone-deep degree. Janos did throw her father down and it’s hardly fair for her not to want some justice (note the use of hero in her thoughts about Slynt) to fall on the man for what he did. Joffrey… well, he’s been abusing her since the end of A Game of Thrones. She has more reason than anyone else to want him dead and goad him into an early grave.

As for her covering up Lysa’s murder, it’s certainly not good, but context does have to be taken into account here. Yes, Sansa covered up Lysa’s murder, but she also believes she might leave through the same door as Lysa if she’s implicated in her murder. Thank Littlefinger for making her feel complicit in that. That chapter’s meant to be a tiny bit disturbing because Sansa is being taught how to lie by Littlefinger.

And that being said, she clearly feels guilty about it, constantly having to remind herself that Marillion was a horrible person, someone not to pity because he was vain and cruel. An attempted rapist who forced himself on her and would have gone further if it weren’t for Lothor Brune. The whole chapter is her trying to sift through the lies Littlefinger is (mis)educating her on and chafing at them because innate decency and morals. 

And, as much as she fantasizes about Joffrey’s death… this is how she deals with the reality:

Sansa felt as though she were in a dream. “Joffrey is dead,” she told the trees, to see if that would wake her.

He had not been dead when she left the throne room. He had been on his knees, though, clawing at his throat, tearing at his own skin as he fought to breathe. The sight of it had been too terrible to watch, and she had turned and fled, sobbing. Lady Tanda had been fleeing as well. “You have a good heart, my lady,” she said to Sansa. “Not every maid would weep so for a man who set her aside and wed her to a dwarf.”

A good heart. I have a good heart. Hysterical laughter rose up her gullet, but Sansa choked it back down. The bells were ringing, slow and mournful. Ringing, ringing, ringing. They had rung for King Robert the same way. Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy?

The gods are just, thought Sansa. Robb had died at a wedding feast as well. It was Robb she wept for. Him and Margaery. Poor Margaery, twice wed and twice widowed.

She’s horrified, confused, and traumatized by the visceral nature of Joffrey’s death. She doesn’t cheer or celebrate it, even though Joffrey was her abuser for quite a good few months. Any personal catharsis found in Joffrey’s death immediately gives way to her thinking about the suffering and sadness of others like her brother’s death at the Red Wedding and what she thinks Margaery must be feeling, having been widowed twice.

In my opinion, this is not a person who would deliberately put someone she hates through a deliberate, cruel, torturous method of death and smile afterwards. I have no qualms about Sansa killing Ramsay for his crimes at all. He deserves death for many many injustices he’s committed. I just believe it should have been done by execution (Like the First Men would), not by being slowly, excruciatingly, devoured by dogs.

If you want more opinions about why I, and many others, would viscerally grate at this and want to be take comfort in the original text, go to @kateofthecanals@turtle-paced, @gotgifsandmusings or @theculturalvacuum. They can make their points better than I ever could. In fact, turtle-paced wrote an incredible analysis of why this scene is… something I do not enjoy.

Go ahead and enjoy your show. I just cannot share in your enjoyment. I apologize if you were expecting a different answer.


Words: 3,914
Sammy x Reader
Warnings: death of minor character, disturbing descriptions/imagery, scary situations, mentions of nightmares, anxiety, & insomnia
A/N: Part 1 here! Welp. We’re gettin’ into it now… Hold onto ya pants, kids!

Your name: submit What is this?

Your best friend Jamie was frowning at you softly as she handed you a cup of tea. You accepted it out of politeness but immediately set it down on the coffee table. You didn’t really have the stomach for anything lately.

Jamie noted the action. “It’s not getting any better?” she asked, not really needing an answer.

”No.” Your voice was thin and quiet.

”Still not sleeping?”

You shook your head. “Not really. A little when I’m just too exhausted to keep my eyes open but as soon as I fall asleep it’s like—it’s like slipping into dark, black water. There are nightmares waiting just below the surface.” Your eyes were hollow as you spoke, and Jamie felt a wave of fear for you. “Always…” you trailed off, and your expression was even emptier as your mind crept back to places where Jamie wasn’t sure she could reach you.

Keep reading

I am underage.

I have stuffies and pacies. I play with dolls and I color in my coloring books. I have a job. I pay for my friends lunch when we go out, because they can’t afford it. I have to grow up. Why? Because I am underaged. “Adults” however, they can buy pacies without having to hide them. They don’t have to make up excuses and weird lies to buy a collar. Underaged littles have it WORSE last time I checked. They get bullied, and harassed into deleting their accounts and sometimes resorting to self harm and or suicide. I have to be big everyday, even when I go home. Not until all the doors are closed at 1 in the morning can I take out my paci from its hiding spot and sink off to that beautiful space. I chose to be little. I could have killed myself, but I bought pacies to show to my daddy who I was in a platonic relationship with. I could have killed myself but I colored a picture of Winnie the pooh instead. I could have killed myself but I held my stuffies like they were never gonna see me again. To quote another blog, “Tell me, what’s sexual about crayons? 
What’s sexual about dolls?
What’s sexual about bottles?
What’s sexual about a babbling like a toddler?
YOU turn it into a kink, YOU hunt down underage littles like a pedophile and prey on them. YOU take something that should be innocent and turn it into something vile and full of hate.” For me it isn’t a weird fetish. For me it isn’t a kink. For me it is a reason to live and a safe place to go to when I think I need to get out the pills. But I’m not 18, so I should just commit suicide right?

anonymous asked:

I need some comfort right now... America just elected a man who wants to restrict my right to control my own body. Do you think I could move to England?

If I remember correctly, he doesn’t just want to restrict your rights. He in fact wants to punish you for trying to control that body you think you somehow own.

You’re all very welcome here in England. I don’t know if our immigration website has crashed yet like Canada’s. But I will make up the spare room for you all, and we’ll drink tea, eat biscuits together and cry about the fate of the world.

Though I should just advise you that England is about to commit economic seppuku because old white northern men don’t like foreigners. So there’s that to consider.

Is the Canada website working again?

anonymous asked:

what do you think your ideal relationship would be like??

How should I know? Just… a committed friendship, I guess. With someone adventurous but tender, maybe a little sentimental. Collaborating on creative projects. Someone expressive but able to have fun without partying hard. Curious. Appreciates having a plan, if not making one. Able to convince me to get up before noon. Able to hang out with our friends without it being awkward.