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I’ve still got a lot of fight left in me | a Jules Thomas fanmix

01. so who’s scary now? / 02. and I can’t sleep at night, I’m not afraid, I’m terrified / 03. if little girls are made of sugar and spice, I’m made of other things now, they aren’t very nice / 04. I used to pray like God was listening, I used to make my parents proud, I was the glue that kept my friends together, now they don’t talk and we don’t go out / 05. better men have hit their knees and bigger men have died / 06. well nothing hurts and nothing bleeds when the cover’s tucked in tight / 07. you’re scared, and you’re sure that your spine will dissolve, you will fall to the floor / 08. way back then when I hadn’t seen half them things I’d never thought I’d see, become someone I’d never thought I’d be / 09. no one knows that you cry, but you don’t tell anyone that you might not be the golden one, and you’re tied together with a smile, but you’re coming undone / 10. who I am isn’t who I used to be / 11. I called myself survivor, but I did more than just not die / 12. when the fire’s at my feet again, and the vultures all start circling, they’re whispering, “you’re out of time,” but still I rise / 13. this is my fight song, take back my life song, prove I’m all right song

[ L I S T E N ]

anonymous asked:

dear kabby mom, how do I make my broken heart stop hurting? I fell in love with a girl who I thought was falling back for me too....but now I don't think so anymore. this sucks.

Oh, my sweet sad baby.  

It does suck. 

It absolutely sucks. 

There is nothing I can say that will make that not true.  There is nothing anyone can say or do that will make it suck any less except time.

 And I know that’s not the answer you want to hear, that’s not the answer anyone wants to hear, because it doesn’t fix anything right now.  It doesn’t save you from having to go through the thing you have to go through right now.  It doesn’t make any of the things that hurt right now any less painful to know that in ten years (or five years) (or six months) this will all feel different. It’s the truest thing that I have to tell you, but I also know that it is in some degree useless to you right now.

You say that you think she doesn’t have feelings for you. Have you talked to her?  Have you done the excruciating and mortifying and emotionally naked thing where you open up your heart to someone without any idea what will happen next?  Maybe you don’t need to ask; maybe you know already.  Maybe she likes someone else.  Maybe her feelings about you are platonic and she’s made that clear. But if there’s gray area – if there’s a piece of your heart or mind that’s still whispering, “But maybe, but maybe …” – maybe with a little time, maybe she’ll change her mind, maybe she’ll see you differently in a year, maybe it won’t work out with the girl she’s dating now – then it might be helpful to say it out loud, to stop the “But Maybe” train in its tracks before it derails you.  Sometimes you can’t let go and put it behind you until you’ve heard the real “No.”  Until the bubble has been burst.  I don’t know your situation, but I know more than once in my life that’s been true for me. I knew I’d hold onto unreasonably stubborn optimism, willfully misinterpreting whatever they said as a “sign,” until I finally got up the courage to just say it out loud, get my heart smashed into a hundred tiny pieces, pick them up, and keep walking.  It was miserable but it was also the only way forward. 

And you, baby, need to figure out what you need to move forward.

You’re feeling big things right now, and you need to use whatever healthy outlets are available to you to start processing them.  Cry to your friends.  Write, draw, sing.  Make sad playlists, watch sad movies.  Swap stories with the people in your life about their heartbreaks, to remind yourself that you’re not experiencing this alone.  Eat good chocolate.  Go for walks.  Breathe fresh air.  Stay busy. Spend time with as many good dogs and adorable non-annoying children as you can find.  Dogs and children do not let you get away with wallowing.  They will absolutely force you to remember that you are alive.

What you absolutely must under no circumstances do is let heartbreak feed into obsession.  Don’t check her social media a hundred times a day to think about all the other people she might choose when she didn’t choose you, or how much fun she’s having doing things you wish she was doing with you instead, but isn’t.  Don’t use her to process the emotions you need to process, even if she’s your friend.  Do not make her responsible for your broken heart.  Do not punish her, or any future person she dates, for the fact that she didn’t choose you.  If you need to vent these feelings do them quietly and privately with your closest most trustworthy friends.  Never publicly, and never to her.  Do not vagueblog or subtweet in a forum where she might see it, and know, and feel terrible. You have every right to process every inch of the feelings that you’re feeling but you owe it to her to make sure you do it in a respectful way. 

She has not done anything wrong. 

No one here has done anything wrong.  

The first time I realized I had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back I was twelve.  The first time I told someone I had feelings for them and they didn’t say it back to me, I was twenty.  The most recent time was just last year.  

Once I showed up at a girl’s house for a brunch date and her drunken hookup from the night before answered the door, but I was too polite to bolt so we just sat there eating our eggs and pretending it wasn’t awkward and I was just there because the girl and I were just friends.

Once in high school I told the tall beautiful blonde star of the basketball team who sat next to me in algebra and with whom I had been silently smitten all year that she had beautiful eyes, and when she gave me a weird look I got up and ran out of the room and pretended like I just needed to get something from my locker.  

Once I didn’t realize that the date I was on wasn’t a date and that the girl was straight until I tried to kiss her, at which point she backed away in horror and neither she nor her friends ever spoke to me again. She lives in my city now and once six years ago we were at a party together and even though at that point it had been close to a decade since the incident, she still never came anywhere near me.

I’ve had friendships end over this.  I’ve had friendships grow ten times as strong over this. I’m thirty-five and I’ve been in the place you’re currently in more times than I can count, and the only thing I can tell you from where I’m sitting right now which might be in any way helpful is that the thing you are experiencing is universal. 

Everyone that you know has been through this at least once. Some people have been on both sides of it.  All of us have been there.  All of us have been there.  Everyone you love and admire, everyone you think is tough and strong, everyone you think never lets their feelings get to them or who you’ve never seen cry, everyone who’s in a relationship of which you’re secretly envious because you assume the fact that they’re happy now means they’ve never known what it’s like to be unhappy.  All of us. All of us.  We’re all right here with you.  And what that means is that we all survived it. 

And you will too.  I promise, baby.  You will too. You’re experiencing one of those things that poets write about.  You’ll listen to melancholy love songs and watch sad movies differently from now on. You know a thing now about your heart that you didn’t know before, and it’s beautiful and terrible and there will be times that you will probably wish for it to disappear.

But please don’t.  

Let me tell you why.

When I was a kid, I was quiet and awkward and introverted and shy, and kept everything inside.  I began to come out of my shell a little bit in high school, but I didn’t really blossom until college, when I finally found my people, and suddenly it was like I was Dorothy moving from a black-and-white world to a Technicolor one. I was in love with everything and everyone.  I was in love with the pretentious gay philosophy major who lived downstairs and I was in love with the blonde sorority girl down the hall who is now a major writer for Buzzfeed and I was in love with anyone who would stay up with me until the sun rose, sitting in the dorm lounge and talking about books.  I had this big colorful soft squishy heart that I’d kept hidden my whole life and I just wanted to give it to someone, but every experience was new, so I gave it to everyone, and because it was all new to me, I had no defense mechanisms to protect myself or avoid getting hurt.  I was forever falling for people who didn’t want me back and breaking my own heart and crying and feeling devastated and writing terrible poetry and being afraid I’d never feel anything ever again.  But hearts are elastic, they bounce back when we let them, they’re made for love and if you just give them a little time they’ll heal and move on to somebody else.

Then when I was twenty-four, my mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness, and I shut down.

The only way I could cope with the panic and the grief was to force myself not to feel it.  I knew my mother was not fine, but I told myself over and over that she would be. I knew that I was not fine, but I told myself over and over that I was.  Sometimes when I was alone at night I would feel it, this huge dark cloud thing hovering over me, and I would feel myself, very firmly, very carefully, shoving it back down into a box and locking it up.  It was an almost physical sensation.  I can remember it vividly.  It was spectacularly unhealthy, but it was also the only way I could survive. 

She died when I was twenty-seven, and my clearest memory of that day, and of the period immediately after, was that I felt nothing.  I cried when I got the phone call from my dad, because of the shock.  I didn’t cry again – about her, or about anything – for years.  I went from being someone who would burst into tears at, like, a Verizon commercial about grandparents, to someone who didn’t cry at her own mother’s funeral.  Some switch had flipped inside me, and it was like the part of me that could feel things was just gone.  I lost three grandparents in the years after my mom died, and I sang at all their funerals, and I felt nothing.  I knew that I loved them, and I knew that this thing that was happening was sad, but I felt it in this very muffled, dim, distant, far-off way where if you had asked me if I was okay I would have told you that I was fine and I would have believed that to be perfectly true.

It was terrible.

Grief made my sister more emotional – she cried a lot, she was more demonstrative, she wanted to process her feelings out loud – but it shut me down completely.  And it took that big sparkly heart full of love for everybody with it.  I tried, every once in awhile, half-heartedly, to go out on an internet date, but I felt nothing.  I didn’t know then what “demisexual” meant, and that I’m simply not wired to sit across the table in a bar from a total stranger and feel the things you’re supposed to feel in that situation; I need that emotional connection before any of the other stuff happens.  But I wasn’t able to form that emotional connection.  From time to time I might feel a fleeting spark of a wistful crush on the cute divorced older lady poet in my writing group, or develop complicated feelings for one of the revolving door of tortured, dramatic, toxic artistic men that seem to be forever populating my life, but it wasn’t the same. I spent ten years convinced that I was broken; that my mom’s death meant that the part of me that knew how to feel things was dead too.  I would, at that moment, have given absolutely anything to be that heartbroken twenty-year-old sobbing over being rejected by a pretty straight girl, because at least that Claire could feel things.

It took me ten years for the switch to flip back on, for me to catch feelings for someone and then get my heart broken again, not that long ago, and it was so disorienting to be feeling things again after all that time, but I was really grateful too.  Because it meant that I wasn’t dead inside.  I was a person who could feel things again.

I’m telling you all of this because right now you are heartbroken, and in the depths of your pain you feel like this is a terrible thing to be, and you want to make it stop.  And I am here to tell you, your heart will heal, because that is what hearts do when we give them permission; but in the midst of your heartbreak, remember to be grateful for the capacity to be heartbroken.  For the fact that you have a breakable heart.  For the fact that you are the kind of person who loves big, even when you aren’t sure the other person is going to love you back. That’s the best kind of person to be.

You’re going to be okay, cupcake.  I promise.  

op is 14 so DO NOT message them ill place a powerful curse on you

but this is peak how deeply politicized tumblr is fucking with young teenagers and creating an environment wildly unlike what it was like when i was 14 on here

like imagine prioritizing a character whose literal purpose is to subtly mock young 4chan mra baby fa scists  + then commit metaphorical genocide over a girl whose explicitly written as an abuse survivor/child soldier with obvious mental health issues… 

it makes me… like yall would seriously think my ab*ser was some soft sweet baby boy who did nothing wrong and only emotionally manipulated me and controlled my entire life for years to??? cope???? lmao

anonymous asked:

RICK TELLING DWIGHT GET ON YOUR KNEES IM LIKE NOOOO WHY HE DID NOTHING WRONG DARYL WANTING TO PUNCH HIM AHHH NO ONE MESSES WITH DWIGHTY BOY NO ONE HES TOO SWEET

SAMEEEEEEE I WAS LIKE MY MISUNDERSTOOD CINNAMON ROLL/BABY BOYYYYY AND ONG DARYL BEING HELD BACK XD *i’m the one holding him back* and when RICK HAD HIS GUN I WAS LIKE NOOOOOO

Criminal Minds

I was going to try not to comment on Criminals for the rest of the season, I really was… But.

For one thing, the pacing and structure is really starting to suffer. It’s watchable, but not really up to par with most episodes.

But what I really want to talk, is of course, Reid. My sweet baby Reid… I gotta say, I actually really dig what they are doing there with him. Good for him, striking back, even if it’s in a really sort of twisted way. And look at him, using that PhD in Chemistry to poison people in prison. I don’t know what he switched that blow with, but I’m assuming it’s something he scienced up from laundry chemicals, designed to react poorly with water, so that when they blew that shit up their noses and it made contact with the wet insides of their nasal cavity…. SSSSSSSSSS! Aha… It’s so fucked up. I love it.

Also, I’m assuming that not everybody that was poisoned died. I imagine most of them were probably just maimed. I couldn’t quite hear what that guard said…

Yeah, I know the whole thing is fucked and twisted, but I actually really like this. I like seeing Reid go to a sort of dark place, it really pulls at my heart strings. I feel so badly for him, and I love it. I’m just glad that Reid sort of fought back, in a way that was hard to trace back to him, no less. That he’s not sitting around being prey. I dig it.

In conclusion, pacing is weird, this plot line is fucking twisted, I’m back on the hype train.

Aha… I’m a terrible person.

Prayers for my sweet baby sun bun. He has GI stasis & he’s not feeling well at all. I brought him to the emergency vet last night & back to the vet this morning. I was given everything he needs to bring him back to health & medicine so he’s not in pain. Just need some positive vibes for my babes ❤