once insecure

It Happened

A classmate questioned my sexuality.

I stood my ground and told them, “I don’t want to ever have sex.”

She laughed.

And it hurt.

All at once all my insecurities were exposed under a pair of judgemental eyes, and I couldn’t hide them.

All I could do was just say, “no.”, as I found myself nearly in tears within the next second when she insisted I would want to some day.

She kept insisting as she walked away smiling knowingly.

I kept denying as I turned away, scared and for a moment, feeling alone.

This happened a week ago, and I’m not angry with her, I’m just disappointed.

I thought she would understand.

Maybe the next person will.

Name: Eleanor Alderidge
Career Path: Lawyer

Dorm: Hall A, Room 4


[ abuse tw ]

You’re more than aware that the life you live is a privileged one. It’s an easy thing to be aware of when your old life was the opposite. If anyone asks nowadays, you’re an Alderidge and you’re proud to be. While that’s true, there’s always an edge to your response, a sharpness that betrays your insecurity. Once upon a time, you were the daughter of a drunk – a very charismatic one. Once upon a time, you sat in a courtroom and watched him testify that the accusations against him were false, as if you’d never heard the things he would do to your mother, as if you could forget the way his fist felt against your skin. Once upon a time, you watched as a jury started to believe him. As far as you’re concerned, your life began when a man named Jeremy Alderidge convinced the jury otherwise, saving you from whatever twisted fairy tale your life had become.

You don’t talk about that story – all you bother to tell most people is that your mother met your adoptive father on a case. You leave out the fact that people used to call you and your mother gold diggers when you first entered this world for fear of it happening again, but you do tell them that the man who adopted you at the age of 11 is more of a father to you than the one you share blood with. This life suits you well so most people don’t push, figuring the circumstances you left were the same circumstances your mother remarried into. You let them think that – you don’t want all the questions that would accompany their knowledge of your past reality. At Welton you shine, but you don’t forget about the time when you couldn’t. Sometimes its memory still mocks you, a voice inside that sounds strangely like your father, telling you that you’ll never rise above it. But you’ll do everything in your power to prove that voice wrong.


SCOUT ALDERIDGE: They’re your sister in every way but blood. You were eight when you and your mother met them for the first time and you didn’t know how they would react to you but you had yourself convinced that it wouldn’t be positive. So when they immediately greeted you with a hug and insisted you come see their action figure collection, you were more than a little surprised. Since then, you became inseparable, and you would fight anyone who would ever dare to suggest you are anything less than sisters. You’ve never liked the phrase “blood is thicker than water,” because they might be the truest family that you’ve ever known.

THEA KANG: Sometimes you find it hard to believe in people, but you’ve never had trouble believing in them. You marvel at their strength, at their ability to take responsibilities that aren’t theirs onto their shoulders. Forming the Dead Poets Society was a risk from its very inception, but it was one weight that you couldn’t let them bear alone. Watching them makes you believe that leaders are born and not made; they have an energy that makes people want to follow them, to love them, and you are no exception. You’ve made a silent agreement with yourself: should everything fall apart, you’re not going to let them shoulder it. No, you’ll gladly take that responsibility for yourself.

JADE LOWELL: You’d say that you’re a pretty good judge of character, and something about them reeks of dishonesty. That alone would usually be enough to repulse you, but there’s something else there too – a type of fear that makes you sure that, whatever they’re hiding, they’re genuinely afraid of it getting out. So you never ask, deciding that becoming their friend would be much easier than the alternative. You invited them to the Society in hopes that they’d finally have a place where they could be honest, if not with you than at least with someone.


anonymous asked:


40. What made you start liking the person you like now? Honestly…there are a lot of factors. He’s really kind. He’s gentle when he needs to be, and his words are sweet in the way that he conveys them. His presence make me not feel anxious anymore (and that’s very hard to do) and instead, really really safe. The first time I spent time with him, I was automatically myself - no formalities, no cautious signs. Everything is just so easy with him - we can laugh at times where it’s supposed to be passionate. I’ve never once felt insecure around him even though I’m always insecure. It makes no sense to me, but it works. He’s funny and goofy - he makes me laugh by saying really dumb things. He radiates positivity like I try to, he has goals in life that I admire because at the moment, I am so lost in the world right now. It all just feels right somehow. 

anonymous asked:

even the post body positive people get insecure once in a while!! just keep your head up, you're a beautiful person ❤️ also, I love using coconut oil when I make bath bombs!!

haha thanks, im just in one of those negative mind sets atm sadly:/ and omg how do u make bath bombs that sounds sick??

anonymous asked:

What do you love most about her?

Her passion. She is timid and insecure, but once you open her she’ll she’s got this energy I can’t describe. If someone’s having a bad day she’ll stop whatever she’s doing to type a paragraph worth of reasons why she loves them and that they’re beautiful. I love it


The room is tilting, side to side. The feeling of being weightless with an empty mind. Vision is blurring, thoughts racing. I can hear my heartbeat, I can feel it as it rips through my body. Everything and nothing all at once. Doubts and insecurities come racing back, all the progress made is gone. An itchy face and a need to pick at things, bruises, scabs, zits, hair, nailpolish. Falling back into old horrible habits that should cease to exist at this point in time. Feeling the urge to shake but without physical tremors. THE NEED IS REAL!


Has taken me as it’s victim once again. The insecurity, the feeling like everyone I know is always hiding something from me. This emotion has made me self destructive from time and time again. I’ve kicked him to the curb, only to meet him back at the next rest stop, letting him work his dirty blood stained roots into the back of my head.
Always dragging me down, making me think the worst, am I not good enough? With all reassurance aside, I still have this lingering feeling like I’ll never be enough. Like someone is always better.
Is it my competitive nature? To strive to be the best? Or is it that I feel like I don’t deserve what I have. Why must I always have a sense of competition with people that I’m near to? Close friends even. Almost like I need to protect what I have or else someone better will take it away from me.
Finding myself,
I feel as if I’ve never had my own identity. Everyone I know always has very well spoken opinions, everyone has one thing that they are passionate about. My thoughts aren’t as easy for me to express. Writing this is hard enough as it is but I feel like it’s needed to communicate with myself like this. Maybe to find out what’s wrong with me. That being said, I don’t really know what I’m good at. Even if I did, I don’t really have to materials or motivation to practice anything. I’m not artistic, I can’t draw, paint, write fluently other than these poorly structured blurbs to myself like this, I’m not musically inclined although I throughly appreciate music, and I don’t have any sort of vocal talent. I don’t know, is that okay? Maybe I’ll post this somewhere someday and hope for some feedback. I just wish I had some sort of passion. Anything. I’ve just been around so many talented people and it seems that the only thing I’m “good” at are computers, which I’m really just a rookie at and I don’t enjoy working on computers anyway. People always tell me I should go into work for technology and such but that’s the thing. I may be decent at it but I’m not passionate about it. I actually hate working with computers despite all my knowledge about them. The only thing I guess I’m really good at is listening to other people. I enjoy doing so as well but at the same time I think that may be because I lack my own passion. I love to hear about others passions and what they are interested in. It’s bittersweet yet, since that just makes me think more on how I lack my own individuality. Depression has just starting to take its toll on me I guess, I might just be overthinking. I just wish I had some advice but it’s so hard to express to people what I’m thinking. That’s another reason why I’m not really artistic. I have ideas but I have a really hard time conveying them. I almost wish I could just use my own brain to convey my mental imagery on canvas since my hands and coordination don’t seem to do the trick. Too many thins running through my head, it’s fucking killing me. I just need answers as to why I’m so mundane. Where is my passion. Why can’t I find you? I’ve tried so hard, I like certain music and art styles but there’s very little that I have found myself. It just makes me feel like I’m filling the void with other people’s passions and that’s not right because that’s not who I am. That’s who they are and it’s not right for me to take that from them and say it’s me. I just wish isolation was as easy as it used to be. I just wish I could be alone and not have to worry about being so damn jealous all the time. I fucking hate jealousy. If there was a way for me to physically manifest that pure emotion, I would destroy it many times in which ever way possible for how much pain it has caused me in life. But I’m tired now, maybe I just need some sleep to clear my head. With me ending this here, to anyone that may see this in the future, please feel free to leave me some advice it would be much appreciated. I’m not talking about grammar advice though, this isn’t an essay, I’m essentially just writing down what I’m thinking the moment I think it so the presence of any grammatical structure should be surprising anyway.

teenager: “lmao white supremacy meme, am u trigert?”

nazi movement: feeling emboldened by the righteous youth of today, white supremacy indeed

teenager: “…….wait is it the past? you think white people are automatically better than everyone? well people shouldn’t confuse me with you, i said lmao first and i meant it like “i don’t take the sentiment im expressing or the reaction to it seriously” not like “i don’t want people to think im not a racist”…because I’m NOT a racist, i’m just a brat, just a sweet kid with a bad sense of humor and im actually very upset that you called me that, so upset that im going to compulsively engage in a bunch of self-destructive behavior like repeatedly doing the thing people say makes me a racist. (are you triggered yet? because i am.)”

nazi movement: i was once like you. upset, insecure. join us and together we’ll be mean to all the people who never had patience for our bullshit. white power movements never fail, don’t worry.

slimefvck  asked:

( ͡ ͡° ͡° ʖ ͡° ͡°) ;3€

- Still bleeds everywhere, but It’s Slime Now. 
- Grimy as fuck. The Nastiest Boy In The Universe. Not sure what this “showering” shit is about, but he’s not into it.
- Dyes his hair black for the #aesthetic, but his roots stay unruly. Even the actual black has faded out into more of a deep brown. Straightens it every single day like some kind of scenester.
- The worst accessory known to mankind.. Lime green anime shades, but pixelated. 
- Decapitated by his timeline’s Meulin for catcalling her once. Ironic.
- Insecure about all of his scars. Long sleeves all day, every day. 102 degrees outside? Long sleeves.
- Masturbates 200 times a day because he’s the only one whose standards are low enough to fuck him. 
- Thinks he’s big shit. He’ll fucking fight you on it. I’ll kick anyone’s ass, I’ll kick your dog’s ass, I’ll kick my own ass.
- Lives off of his dad, because cussing out customers in Hot Topic doesn’t make him enough money to support his chronic drug habit, or the 40 dollar trips to Taco Bell he makes every single night he gets fucked out of his head. That wild son of a gun, he fucking loves Taco Bell.
- He had a crush once. He still tells everyone they’re in love, they’re getting married, they had a lovely weekend in the falls, but said crush been on the missing persons list for the last five years. What’s the truth? (God only hopes he doesn’t develop any more crushes in the future. We don’t want to know what happens from there.)
- Extremely impulsive, will hurt himself or others on split second whims. Miss him with that ‘remorse’ shit though. He’s never sorry. Usually a little confused afterwards though, because he forgets why he did things/what caused him to get so upset.
- Really bad memory in general. Forgets everything.
- Probably brain damaged from blunt trauma, but he wouldn’t know a thing about it. He’s never seen a doctor one time in his whole life. 
- Listens to 3OH3!s WANT album and nothing else. Ever.

Only as simple but truly delicate and pure to the soul
Liberated from a once dictated insecurity within the surface of her skin
She finds the flowers and believes the signs
The representation of life a death and that her love may live on
And her love inspires people to keep living on
Lots of blurs and rounded smiles that have the sharpest edges that cut deeper than a surgeon saving her life cause she’s only 16 and has to become a women so fast
She breathes, and her breast bone is sore
She’s gone through hell and back
She’s not done
She’s never faded
A diamond under dirt
She glitters in the rain.

I hate it when all my insecurities decide to drown me all all at once.

I’m insecure over whether my new glasses will look good on me.
I’m insecure whether my haircut will make my face fat.
I’m insecure over my weight.
I hate it that my body is not in proportion - flat chest big hips - i have difficulty finding shorts that fit.

I hate that im always jealous of others, and i hate the fact that all these hate is consuming me.

small/medium/tall jbm

• 5'5" Joly who used to get made fun of all the time for his height and no one ever seemed to take him seriously
• 5'9" Bossuet who always felt rejected because he knew he was around average height but yet that never seemed “enough” for his previous partners
• 6’ 1" Musichetta who was told that “boys don’t like when girls are taller than them”
• But then they all get together!
• Joly used to be nervous going in public with previous relationships because people would stare or laugh, but with Bossuet and Chetta, he doesn’t even think about it. All he can think is how lucky he is to have them
• They cherish each other’s differences and any insecurities that once surrounded their heights completely disappear
• One day Musichetta confessed she used to love wearing heels but stopped cause people told her they found it intimidating
• For her birthday, Joly and Bossuet surprised her with a pair of Louboutins and she cried
• She hasn’t taken them off since and that’s barely an exaggeration

Pack Mom:Part 5

Originally posted by pikoweoczy

Tagged peeps: @sallyp-53 @december-sunrise @beaconhills17 @winchesterreid

Characters: Y/n, Derek, Liam, Peter, Jordan, Scott, Kira, Allison, Isaac, Lydia, Jackson, Malia, Stiles, Aiden, Ethan

Pairing: Derek x Y/n (Female for this series) Liam x Y/n(mother/son bond)

Word count: 1844

Warning: Slight angst. Insecure Liam once again. Cute protective Derek. Little mentions of sex. Stiles being a moron.

Summary: Pack night. What could go wrong?

A/N: Also read my other series The Beginning Of The End- Part 1 link. other parts found in the masterlist below


Pack night. The night y/n loved and hated. She loved having the entire pack over, including Jordan and Peter when he decided he could be bothered. But she was a perfectionist. A pleaser. While this was great for Derek in the bedroom, he hated it anywhere else. She would run herself ragged trying to get everything right, every snack and every type of food people could ask her for. She knew she should slow down, but she couldn’t.

So here she was, making a few different dishes, baking cookies and brownies and plating up the food. Derek was just watching her run around. She always did this and she always ended up exhausted. So he got up and took the oven mitts out of her hands.

“Go sit, I’ll do this. You can watch my fine ass, I know how much you love that” he said, winking at her. She giggled. She did love to look at his ass. Firm and hard, but still soft at the same time. She loved wrapping her legs around his waist, her feet touching it. She shook her head, pushing the images of his ass to the back of her mind, this proving difficult seeing as Derek just bent over, shaking his cute butt a little as he got the cookies and brownies out of the oven.

Keep reading

Second birthday

Author : @a-january-girl
Rating : NSFW (at all!)
Notes : Happy birthday @piecesofscully! I wrote you an “All Things” post episode smut fic! :D Hope you’ll like it! 
This is my ficlet for the @txf-fic-chicks birthday challenge, including London, red, and cake!
Thanks @alldolleduppink for your beta on this one. Eres una perla ❤️


Scully had no idea she was going to blow out birthday candles tonight with February being so far away…

She also had no idea that crossing paths with Daniel again would confuse her so much and yet settle things right at the same time. She couldn’t have perceived how it would make her life start anew this fast. Of course, the minute she laid eyes on him, she was overwhelmed with surging feelings of affection, but she also knew she wasn’t the same person she had once been, insecure and young, craving for love and safety in the shelter of his arms. She was older now and she finally understood she didn’t need reassurance, or anyone’s arms to feel safe and strong anymore. And even though the sound of Daniel’s voice had stirred long-buried emotions, she knew. She could ponder this for hours and wonder whether leaving him had been a mistake back then, but she was sure leaving him wouldn’t be a mistake today. It was the right thing to do.

Waking up on the black leather of Mulder’s sofa, tucked under his Navajo blanket, Scully surprisingly feels better than she’s felt in years. She feels warm and refreshed with the 2-hour sleep she just indulged herself in. She fell asleep in the blink of an eye earlier, exhausted by all the emotions and overpowering thoughts that had been going through her mind. She feels so good she’s determined not to let the lurking feeling of guilt for having dozed off in the middle of this meaningful conversation with Mulder poke through the midst of her tranquility.

Keep reading