Been wanting to say this for a long time so here we go:
Can we please collectively stop making fun of the “meth fandom” or w/e the fuck nomenclature we’re using to describe real people who finally have a space and community to talk about their substance use? Like I’ve seen posts lump this part of tumblr in with literal fucking neo-nazis and if that doesn’t strike you as fucked up i don’t know what else i can fucking say to you.
I’ve even seen this shit from leftists. Like how can we recognize that capitalism is built on the exploitation of labor and mass disenfranchisement of working class people - and then turn around and mock people who use stimulants to cope with the godawful hardships of that life? If you can’t recognize meth users humanity, then what the fuck are you even fighting for?
I have adhd, but I still abuse my stimulants because my body literally cannot produce the amount of labor necessary for my survival. Thousands of others do the same. We’re not that different from the people on here using meth. Everywhere ~drug users~ turn, we’re denied the chance to talk about our own experiences in our own fucking language. We’re denied the chance to find our own community and engage with it on our own terms. Especially us women who use. Why propagate that shit here? What do you gain by mocking us and people like those in the ~meth fandom~? Who are you helping?
And i know this probably describes only a sliver of my followers, but I hope it’ll reach further. Because honestly? Some people on here need to step the fuck off.
I’ve never seen a post on my dash condemning this phenomenon (which is often treated like a joke, like it’s not about you know, real fucking people), and that’s fucking bullshit. I’m not saying no one’s said this before, but I sure as fuck haven’t seen it. We can do better. We must do better.
You laugh. Everyone else stops laughing. Someone’s hand shakes, and a wine glass shatters.
“I’m such a realistic person,” your Te assesses. Your Ni nods affirmatively, and goes back to making weird shit up.
You’ve been elected student council president. They won’t let you streamline the class period system or fire any of the teachers. You silently curse Kill la Kill for giving you unrealistic expectations.
“You’re so unfriendly and you hate parties. How are you an extrovert? You must be an INTJ,” your friend says. She’s right; ENTJs are just INTJs on meth.
Why do all of your friends think that processing means hugs and validation? You just want advice. Your therapist won’t even give you advice without “listening empathetically” first. Why are your parents paying $80 an hour for this?
You’ve been elected student council president again. “Do I have to do this?” you mutter. You don’t remember running this year. “You’re an ENTJ; you want to, right?” the principal says. You don’t want to; you won’t able to make any real changes in policy. You’re just a symbol. The principal tells you it will look good on your college application and offers you a cookie.
You decide not to major in poly-sci.
You are officially an adult. You have been ready for this moment since preschool. Your friends say they still don’t feel like adults, which sounds terrifying and is probably the reason they are still dependent upon your friendship.
“Time management! Attention! Priorities!” you snarl for the fourth time this morning. Your coworkers spend the next hour brainstorming ways to get you fired.
“You’re an ENTJ? Can you help me make a five-year plan?” they ask. “Of course,” you reply. You give them control of your crumbing ponzi scheme, and they spend the next five years in jail.
Everything is closed on Sunday. Don’t they realize you have things to do before the week starts? You drive and drive and drive, looking for a city that never sleeps. The sky darkens; your car melts into the pavement. You are the city. You never sleep.
Someone thinks you’d be a power bottom. At least you aren’t a needy top like all five of your ENFJ friends. You delete three of them from your contacts while you’re thinking of it.
Your job involves expensive suits, firing people, creepy motivational posters on the walls of your office, and a formal title that your friends and family don’t understand. They ask what you do at work. “Extroverted thinking,” you tell them, and they nod politely and ask, “But what does your company make?” “Money,” you say. “But how do you earn the money?” “Introverted intuition,” you tell them. They nod again. It’s a very ambiguous function.
Your ISTJ coworker pipes in. “We trade stocks.” This is technically insider trading because Ni is psychic, but no one says anything.
You care about someone; this is not part of the plan. You race around doing errands in your black Camaro, swearing profusely at people who drive the speed limit.
It’s time to make some major life changes. Everything is boring and the days are starting to blur together. You engage your Se.
We don’t talk about what happens next.
The scientists have discovered a way to see inside your brain. They find out it’s just a game of Tetris. “Perhaps we can program the perfect leader somehow,” one of them says. You slide an I-block into place and exhale, contented. The brain scans turn blue.
You move to the coast, work in a little coffee shop and play your saxophone in a pub band by night. You date ISFPs who read you their poetry. No one is afraid of you anymore. You are peaceful and connected. Your therapist said this would make you happy.
Sorry for not posting I was on holiday for a while didn’t have internet in this special needs facility =) Been to the doctor|s today and got .
30×200mg Morphin capsules, 50×40mg Ritalin(methylphenidate),100×2mg klonopin(Rivotril) ,50×10mg Diazepam ,50×2.5mg Tavor sublingual (Lorazepam)
Anons should leave you be about your choices, yes it will be bad for you later but the way they want about it was wrong. Being caring is one thing but criticizing and calling you stupid is another thing.
Like I know it’s bad for me and stuff but like it’s my decision to do it and if I die because of it that’s on me. It’s nobody else’s fault on my own but getting angry and calling me stupid is pushing it way to far.
The Signs as things my friends have texted me recently
Aries: If I poured some cocaine in front of you, tossed you a rolled up dollar bill to snort it with, and told you at have at it, would you snort it? Just asking. ‘Cause I’d snort the fuck out of it. I’d straight Scarface that bitch. Taurus: How many kinks could a kinkershamer shame if a kinkshamer could shame kinks Gemini: I’d fuck the plane while wearing plane pajamas and making plane noises because of those sexy wings and hot propellers Cancer: I screech horribly if I’m within 200 feet of anything bigger than a puddle Leo: I’d love to play with GI Hoe’s Rise of the ‘Cobra’ Virgo: If you aren’t playing soccer with someone’s head up your anus and through the middle of your torso, you aren’t playing soccer correctly Libra: They look like testicles with eyes Scorpio: Push two inches into the body. Three and they usually start shriveling up and turning to raisins. I wouldn’t fuck a raisin. Sagittarius: “Come, people” “Oh no they can do that too but before you arrive tbh” Capricorn: I miss the demon spe-Glitter. I love Glitter. Aquarius: No [God doesn’t know] but my sphincter does Pisces: The only thing that gets my heart racing anymore is tachycardia and Viagra