this is why i am a still life person

Guys My Age (1)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 2554

Warnings: Lap dancing. ANGST.

Summary: You’re playing truth or dare with the Avengers when Nat asks you when the last time you got laid was  and Sam dares you to pick a song that perfectly grasps why you haven’t had sex in so long.

A/N: Thanks for the anon who recommended this song. I thank the heavens I found it because it’s so fucking relevant. I can’t seem to write smut without just a tinsy bit of a plot. But here you go.

Permanent tag list: @meganlane84

Part 2 Part 3

Originally posted by haidaspicciare

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Harry Potter characters on Public Transport

Hermione. Listens to podcasts and reads The Observer on her phone at the same time. Has extra bag containing her heels which she puts on when gets to office; keeps it neatly under her feet freeing up the seat beside her.

Ron. Has no idea how to get off. Has no idea how he got on for that matter. Also why does this bus take so long? Why didn’t they take the Knight Bus? Although there is always the chance someone has taken their Hippogriff on the Knight Bus, and they do shit a lot, and Hippogriffs aren’t allowed on London Buses.. That said, something does smell like Hippogriff shit.

Draco. Casting disinfectant charms with no regard for the Statute of Secrecy. Knows how to swipe his oyster card thank you very much Pansy it’s not his fault the gates slammed shut early.

Pansy. Unapologetically does her makeup. Always misses the last train home. Spends a fortune on mini-cabs.

Cormac McLaggen. Manspreads.

Hagrid. Can’t fit through turnstile for the Tube. Sad that he can’t bring Buckbeak.

Harry. Stands always. Even when tube isn’t crowded. Can’t stop staring at the pale blond head in front of him. Is it? Could it be? Why is he here? It wasn’t him yesterday, or the day before, or the week before that .. But it might be today. Very suspicious. Is always late and blaming train delays because he keeps getting off at random stops and following random blonds to make sure that they are not a certain person getting Up-To-No-Good™ 

Luna. Has never seen such a concentration of Wrackspurts in her life as when she surveys the commuters on the 7.18 Northern Line Tuesday morning.

We haven’t talked for such a long time, I can’t even recall the exact sound of your voice. I don’t remember your laugh - I remember the crinkles by your eyes and that dimple on your cheek and how it deepens - but I don’t know what it feels like to hear it, how it once made my heart swell in my chest, not anymore. And yet I’m sure that if I heard a million people laugh, yours would still stand out to me and maybe I’d turn around to look for the source and wonder how something so simple is enough to make my blood sing. We miss the memories, not the person, is what my father used to say, but how can he explain why I drop everything when I hear that one song we used to dance to and why that blue sweater you borrowed me still sits at the bottom of my closet when I could have thrown it away? How does missing someone make any sense when that person is still around, is somehow still a part of your life? How am I supposed to get over that? How does anyone?
—  missing you / n.j.

popular text posts + ask memes

❛ i don’t know what i’m doing with my life, but i know i’m doing it wrong ❜
❛ i am so cute and bitter ❜
❛ my life is one part ‘wait’ and another part ‘what’ ❜
❛ my #1 talent is saying stupid things to people and immediately regretting it ❜
❛ i love sleeping to avoid problems ❜
❛ i hate myself a lot but i get offended when other people do ❜
❛ i’m hungrier than the neopet i neglected for nine years ❜
❛ hit me up if you wanna date a piece of shit ❜
❛ we need some new and more powerful swears ❜
❛ i get progressively uglier throughout the day ❜
❛ i’m so miserable, but i laugh at everything ❜
❛ i need something that is more than coffee, but less than cocaine ❜
❛ just because you’re trash doesn’t mean you can’t do great things. it’s called garbage can, not garbage cannot. ❜
❛ 90 out of 10 people agree that math is fucking lame ❜
❛ if you think i’m ugly now, you should have seen me in 2009 ❜
❛ 2010 me would literally be terrified of 2016 me and i love it ❜
❛ i have a rare skin condition called close the fucking blinds ❜
❛ hey babe, i made you this mixtape for valentines day. i don’t know many love songs, so it’s just uptown funk 18 times in a row. ❜
❛ there are people who know me in real life who think i’m straight and that’s really funny to me ❜
❛ i was cursed with expensive taste and a low budget ❜
❛ yo dude i trusted you wtf the fuck? what the fuck?? what the fuck what the ❜
❛ open flannel shirts and lingerie are the hottest thing and nobody can convince me otherwise ❜
❛ i’m the weird dad, wine mom, vodka aunt, and gay emo cousin all in one person ❜
❛ that awful moment when you wake up ❜
❛ damn haha i’m going to have to deal with that sooner or later ❜
❛ are we gonna fucking hold hands tonight or what bitch ❜
❛ people our age have children what the hell i am a children ❜
❛ i don’t like your clothes. take them off. ❜
❛ why am i only motivated to sort my life out at 4 am? ❜
❛ after i die, i’ll probably still complain ❜
❛ people are so petty and then here i am, me, an angel ❜
❛ if i don’t insult you daily, it means i don’t like you ❜
❛ do something with your life that would make a 1950s straight white man angry ❜
❛ i need to get laid… to rest. put me in a coffin. let my soul ascend. ❜
❛ i’m trying to be a better person, but some people are testing me ❜
❛ i’m overstressed and underfucked ❜
❛ i can’t wait to be a piece of shit with a bachelors degree ❜
❛ my emo phase never went away, it just aged like fine wine ❜
❛ my whole life consists of wondering whether or not to make the bitchy comment ❜
❛ i don’t have time for people who don’t believe in aliens ❜
❛ the lack of cuddling i am experiencing right now is upsetting ❜
❛ why do good concert tickets happen to bad people ❜
❛ i can’t play hard to get i’m already hard to want ❜
❛ i’m still pissed off about growing up ❜
❛ if you listen carefully, you can hear me whisper ‘shut the fuck up’ at least once every five minutes ❜
❛ when i die i want my heart donated to NASA so they can finally see what a black hole looks like up close ❜

❛ single and ready to take a 20 hour nap ❜
❛ write ‘nothing is set in stone’ on my grave as both a witty joke and a subtle warning that i will be back ❜
❛ how do people even put up with me like i can’t even put up with me ❜
❛ the opening riff to mr. brightside could literally raise me from the dead ❜
❛ stale cinnamon roll, been in this world too long, too cynical  ❜
❛ sorry, i’m poor. i can’t afford to pay attention ❜
❛ aziz ansari’s voice in the back of my head faintly telling me to treat myself is going to be my downfall ❜
❛ is it too late to wrap myself up like a baby and drop myself off on a billionaire’s doorstep? ❜
❛ my neutral expression makes me look like i’m always in a bad mood which is convenient because it’s usually true ❜
❛ i never run voluntarily so if you ever see me running you should start running too because something is coming ❜

KEITH’S PALADIN VLOG, I’M–

“It’s just, being galra is a big deal. Maybe that’s why…I was never good at connecting with people.”

“I still don’t understand wHY I wouldn’t just say Voltron. It’s—it’s so much faster! One person says it, right? Done! I say ‘Voltron’ and then the chant is over! It doesn’t hAVE to be complicated!”

“I am…sorry. I am so sorry I, I guess—I have a bit of a temper, so…"

“I don’t know why I’m that way…maybe, I’m naturally untrusting because my mom left me? And so, instead of accepting people into my life, I push them away before they reject me. I guess I have some walls up…"

“iM OUT OF HERE! I’M! GET ME OUT OF HERE! I SAID I WOULDN’T CRY!

iM CRYING TOO WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP HURTING HIM

Depression is not beautiful.

Anxiety is not adorable.

Suicidal thought is not romantic.

Dissociation is not sweet day-dreaming.

Self-harm is nothing to be proud of.

Mental illnesses don’t make you edgy, nor wise. They are disgusting feelings that haunt you everyday and night. They are the reason why your life falls apart and you always feel miserable.

Stop romanticizing mental illnesses. Thank you.

Do you want to know a secret? Come closer, but not too close or you will get weird ideas. Because that’s what I am to you, right? A pair of legs who will spread according to your will. A pair of knees who will bend to pray in the morning and will satisfy your pleasures in the evening. I’m sorry if I’m being too blunt but my mouth can talk, among other things. And we’re the same, you and I. We share the same wishes, the same sins, the same thoughts but only I will be blamed for it.

I bleed in red valleys ending at the maturity of your thoughts. You bleed into paintings strung across the same notes that bind our shoes, and while I’m restricted to interpreting lips for wants I don’t desire, I still crave understanding that surpasses the skin I’m greeted in. You raised a person when you held her shoulders down and loved in self-conscious, yet wonder why she trusts people like a voice to text to get thoughts right the first time.

Is an apology for privilege a welcome one? Should a win not matter because someone lost? Do I have to spell out the words I AM SORRY every time someone treats you unfairly for reasons that can’t be explained with clothes on? If I was sure it would help you lead a life better than the goddesses we came from. I would. I have always known you were no different from me. I just wondered if you knew it, too. Because that’s a start.

—  Collab between the three musketeers, better known as @giulswrites  @teacup13 , @writingbykawelwa

anonymous asked:

How are you still a fan of Sam after all he's let happen to the fandom and to shippers in his name? You haven't personally been hurt by it so is it easier for you to ignore and pretend none of it ever happened? I'm struggling with my feelings about him and would love your insight.

As I have always said, I fan how I choose, and do my best to allow others the same privilege. If anyone reading this thinks I am talking about you, I promise you, I’m not.

I am sorry that there are people in the fandom who feel hurt. Its a shame that that was the result of something that should have been a fun and light-hearted experience. Please, however, don’t make assumptions, even posed as a question, such as ‘You haven’t personally been hurt by it so is it easier for you to ignore and pretend none of it ever happened?’ You don’t know what I have and haven’t been hurt by in this fandom, or by whom. I’m not pretending or ignoring anything. But I’m also not letting things have more presence in my life than they deserve.

You ask how I can still be a fan of Sam. First of all, I don’t believe that Sam did anything to fans, or allowed anything to be done to fans. I’ll talk more about that later. Even if I believed Sam did do something, that still doesn’t require me to stop supporting him. There is no one on this earth who has ever hurt me as deeply as my husband. No one has ever hurt him as deeply as I have. We don’t set out to hurt each other, but life is messy and people are imperfect. This is why I work every day of my life to practice the brutally hard art of forgiveness. Forgiveness isn’t an ‘If/Then’ equation. It’s not, ‘If this person is submissive and humble and admits all of their faults, then I will forgive.’ Forgiveness is a single party activity that is not dependent on any other person’s actions or opinions. I can forgive my husband when he hurts me because I choose to, whether or not he has asked for forgiveness. Forgiveness is for me, not him. Forgiveness makes me a better, happier, stronger person, more in control of my life. Let me ask you a question: Why would I NOT forgive my husband? Why would I hold on to anger, hurt or frustration? How would it benefit me? What would I get out of it? Heartburn, high blood pressure, anxiety - I don’t need more of that in my life. Besides, I know my husband is a really, really excellent man. His list of positive qualities is miles long. But he is imperfect, as am I. I forgive him, he forgives me, we focus on being better, learning from our mistakes and reveling in the soul fulfilling joy we find in each other. That is not ignoring or pretending, that is choosing our own happiness and health in spite of the messiness that is sharing life with another human. We are all responsible for our own happiness and happiness is a choice. My life is far from perfect and far from easy, but I am a generally happy person because I choose to be. Even if he did do something which hurt me (he didn’t), I can choose to forgive and move on. How can I still be a fan of Sam? Because I choose to be.

You ask how I can still be a fan of Sam after all he’s let happen to the fandom. He didn’t let anything happen to the fandom. We are not some unified group who get together each month and read the minutes and faithfully follow the bullet items on the agenda. Fandoms are very fluid bodies. There is no entrance exam, or document to sign, no oath to swear or dues to pay. People come and go as they please with no explanation due anyone at any time. Therefore, there is no control over what happens in a fandom at any given time, and my perception of this fandom is completely different from another fan, who may not be on Tumblr, but is on Twitter, or who is on Tumblr, but we have no followers in common. There are the Instagram fans, the Facebook fans, the multi-platform fans, the book group fans - and in each of these areas there are subsets of fans such as fanart, fanfiction, shipper, non-shipper, gifmaker, video maker, live tweeter, sam fan, cait fan, toby fan, graham fan, duncan fan, etc, etc, etc. There are thousands upon thousands of people who consider themselves part of this fandom. There are subsets of this fandom I probably haven’t even conceived of. We couldn’t possibly all share the same experiences, even in the same fandom, because there is simply too much diversity on every possible level. Therefore it is literally impossible for anything to happen to the fandom. You believe that something terrible happened to the shippers, but not even that is possible. Who are the shippers? Am I one, do you know how I categorize myself? We are all in control of our own experience. Sometimes that means not engaging or blocking, muting, ignoring, biting your tongue and generally not paying attention to people who don’t deserve your attention. It’s not Sam’s job to tutor us all about how to successfully fan, and it’s not his job to soothe ruffled feathers when one person hurts another person. How could he even begin to know? There are two sides to every story, so even if he was made aware of one side, what about the other side? We are adults. Our problems are our own. Not his. He has enough problems.

Again, you ask how can I still be a fan of Sam after everything that was done in his name. I don’t buy it. I refuse to hold Sam liable for other people’s actions. They are responsible for those actions. I am a Christian. I do not condone the thousands of years of atrocities that have been and continue to be committed in Jesus Christ’s name. I’m pretty sure He doesn’t either. I’m pretty sure Mohammed and Allah and myriad other well known figures don’t condone what was/is done in their names. I also believe that you are making assumptions about what Sam has condoned and what he hasn’t, what he knows and what he doesn’t and what his responsibilities are. Some people see malice where others see sarcasm. Some see apathy where other’s see focus directed somewhere else. We simply don’t know what has gone on behind the scenes, or what people really felt, thought or did. If someone was a horrible bully or troll (and there were several someones) that is on them. They made bad decisions. Really bad decisions. I do know that no one was required to engage with anyone else on Twitter or any other platform. Lucky for me, it isn’t my job in life to judge other people. My job is to do my best to be a good person and be good to other people. I believe we should try to lead by example. I am a fan of Sam because I don’t believe he did anything or allowed anything to be done to fans.

Do you really want to know why I am still a fan of Sam? You think you’ve been hurt by him, or someone associated with him? You think this has caused great distress in your life? Maybe it has. Here is something I know about Sam. His dad left him when he was three. Three years old. I have four kids. I know intimately what it’s like to have a three year old. I know how much they need. I know what it takes to raise a boy to manhood. It’s not easy. Sam had no contact with his dad. None. No advise, no outings, no support, no role model. He had no father. I’m sure this hurt him deeply and continues to hurt him. After years of absolutely no contact with his father, they were reconnected. His dad was dying of cancer. He did not push him away, tell him to die alone, tell him that he left so there could be no relationship, or any of a million other things he could have done. He chose the higher path. He traveled to see his father. He truly connected with him. He learned about him. He go to know him. He offered him love and support as this flawed man was dying. In short, he offered at least some form of forgiveness. I’m sure it was hard for him. I’m sure there were many horrible things he wanted to say. Maybe he did say them. But we know from his own words that it didn’t end on a horrible note. It ended on a positive, healing, healthy note. That’s pretty remarkable and admirable. That’s just one example out of many that illustrate why I think Sam is worthy of my attention. He is a good man. He is generous with his time, talent and wealth. He cares about people and he isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty in the process of helping others.

You are absolutely not required to be a fan of Sam. It’s a supremely optional activity. But my question for you is why would I NOT be a fan of Sam? I have yet to hear a single person give me even one legitimate reason why I shouldn’t be a fan, considering that I should probably hold him to the same standard to which I hold myself. We’re both pretty flawed, messy humans. Isn’t life grand?

If they’re smart enough to be doctors, they’re smart enough to learn to say your name correctly.
— 

My resident.

I don’t have a common typical English name. My name is unique to my culture. It’s always been difficult always being different, an outsider. Especially growing up in the US south. But that’s a different story.

There are two schools of thought on my name: “oh cool so exactly as it’s spelled” and “what in the actual fuck I don’t even know where to start.” The latter are always the loudest and most obnoxious.

First days of school were the worst growing up. I would usually keep track of where in the alphabet the teacher was on roll call and knew she was looking at my name when there was a long pause. I would fake a laugh, raise my hand, and tell them my name. Everyone else would laugh along. I hated it, I was so embarrassed. Why couldn’t I have been named Ashley or Catherine or Megan? Life would have been so much easier.

I grew up to embrace my name and love it. I love my culture, our history is awesome, and my name is badass. I’ve only met one other person with my name and she’s ten years younger than I am and lives in Canada. But my acceptance doesn’t mean everyone else has had the same epiphany about my name. I still get the same looks, well-intentioned but rude comments, and confused stares from all the Caroline’s, Katelyn’s, and Lauren’s.

Some days I own it with a bad ass “no it’s not hard, you’re being dramatic, it’s easy to say and really cool” attitude. Sometimes I have rhyming tricks that I personally HATE but understand it’s a necessary evil because some people have tiny minds and need the extra help. And then I throw in a little history lesson because damn, some people.

But some days I’m exhausted, and I can’t argue and stand up for myself. Some days I’m tired and defeated and I let it go, “I know, it’s hard, a lot of people have trouble. It’s okay.”

My resident caught me on one of those nights. I was on hour 14 of the work day, scrubbing in for yet another surgery. She didn’t keep asking my name because she couldn’t pronounce it, but because she genuinely couldn’t remember what it was because she was having a very similar kind of day.

No one has ever said anything like that to me before. I was too tired at the time to understand and appreciate what she said, but it’s been resonating with me ever since. She’s fucking right. If you’re comfortable speaking in medical jargon with our made-up sounding words, you can say my name. It’s not hard, it’s not my fault you can’t say it, and no, you can’t make up a nickname for me. ✋🏼

anonymous asked:

i can't hear it, what does keith say at the end of his vlog?

I’m Keith, the pilot of the black lion. What should I say? I’m a paladin, I fly the black lion. I—I said that already. See, that’s why I’m bad at this! What else am I supposed to tell you? Okay, um, I guess—I’m part Galra. [clip of Hunk and Keith from “The Belly of the Weblum”]

I guess being part-Galra’s a big deal. Might explain why I was never really good at connecting with people. [Clip of Keith, Lance, and Hunk from “Fall of the Castle of the Lions]

I still don’t understand why I wouldn’t just say “Voltron”! It’s—It’s so much faster! One person says it, right? Done. I say “Voltron,” and then the chant is over. It doesn’t have to be complicated! 

I am so sorry, I am so sorry. I guess, I have a bit of a temper some. [various clips of Keith being “temperamental”]

I don’t know why I’m that way. Maybe, I’m naturally untrusting because my mom left me? And so instead of accepting people into my life, I push them away before they reject me. I guess I have some walls up. [sniffles] I’m—I’m out of here! Get me outta here! I’m—I’m out of here, I said I wouldn’t cry!

Here’s a transcript of the new portions - Keith’s Paladin Vlog

How shall I not be ashamed of my scars when as soon as I’m kinda ok with them and wear short sleeves I feel like people judge me because ‘why isn’t she hiding them? Is she proud? Does she want attention?’ Like, dude, most of them have been on my body for years and they’ll all stay till I begin to rot. I did not put them there just this morning for you to see. But as I (unfortunately) am still alive there are hot days and I do not want to wear long clothes for the rest of my life. I’m not ashamed of my scars themselves, I could live with them. I’m ashamed of the cliches and prejudices people have in their heads because I always fear they’re right.

DIR EN GREY Kyo [2017.08.04 - MIND-V Vol 4- Interview]

“Which is why, I am simply, a voice and nothing more. “ - Kyo

Vocalist Kyo’s identity is something that has received high appreciation not only in Japan, but the world over. But, according to the man himself, just to what esteem does he hold himself?

Regardless, to solely believe in oneself self alone is the peek of self confidence.

But to the Kyo san who continues throwing his voice out into the world through DIR EN GREY and sukekiyo, just what is his reason to continue?

His visually shocking front page spread together with his thoughts and imagination, Kyo san shares all.


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anonymous asked:

What's your favourite piece of art and who created it?

It’s like picking one of your favourite children, isn’t it? (I don’t like children but hey, the comparison still works)

So, that’s the most difficult and unanswerable question to ask me, I guess. I can tell you about one piece I love, and why I love it, but keep in mind that it is one of many. It’s a work by Arnold Böcklin, a Swiss Symbolist painter. I’ve seen multiple versions of it, but it’s this one that always draws me in and does not let me go:

It’s called Die Toteninsel, which translates as ‘the Island of the Dead’. This version was painted in 1883 and is currently in the collection of the Alte Nationalgalerie in Berlin.

I don’t know what it is about the painting that fascinates me. I think it’s beautifully painted, the colours and the technique are ‘my aesthetic’, as the kids on the internet call it these days (I’m not old but sometimes I feel like a grandma). The juxtaposition of the figure in white and the darkness of the trees is amazing.

It’s the uncanny feeling of the darkness behind the trees surrounded by rocks that draws me in. What’s behind the trees? Who are those people in the boat? Where do they come from? Where do they go? Why does it look like Stonehenge and some rocks made a baby and it became this island? What’s up with the clouds, is it going to rain soon or will the sun break through? Is there an afterlife? Did Marion Zimmer Bradley encounter this painting and thought “YES this is my Avalon”? Why can’t one understand all about the mysteries of life? What even is life? What is death?

Most of all: why am I asking myself all these questions when I’m looking at a painting? I can give you an answer to that. Works of art can do something to a person. They can make you smile, cry, but most of all: they can make you think. What I like about this particular work is that it’s a story, and it’s not finished. It’s just a fragment. We don’t know how it started, we don’t know where it will end. It leaves so much to our imagination.

If you’re still reading this, thank you for putting up with the incoherent stream of words that make up my thoughts. I don’t know where they come from either. This is what happens when I get a question that I find hard to answer. I actually do love writing about artworks, even if it’s just something like this. Your questions are always welcome, but it can happen that the answer is a bit… vague. :)

It’s been several months and I’m still trying to find an explanation as to why you’ve left.

I’m trying to grasp all these thoughts in my head that have been planted there since the day you left me.

Was it something I said? Something I did? Was it because of the person that I am?

Because yes, I know that being around me gets exhausting after a while. I suck the life out of myself and maybe I started sucking it out of you too. Was I too much? Was I too clingy? Too insecure? At times maybe too jealous? Or did you leave because I was too unstable? Mentally and emotionally, that is.

Did you leave because me crying myself to bed was getting too repetitive? Was it because you couldn’t dare to look at all my scars anymore that I carefully created myself? Was it because the story of me feeling numb and yet so full of emotions was getting boring?

Was I making you sad too? Was I turning your colourful world into one that’s only black and white? Did you find someone who put the colour back in? Is that why you left?

All these months have passed and I’m still wondering. Wondering why. Wondering how. Wondering what if.

What if I had been less intense? What if I didn’t show you the bruises on my heart? What if I just kept shut about my past and things that happened? Could you have loved me more then? Could you have stayed? Would you have?

Maybe in the end this was about me. Maybe if I wasn’t the way I am, you would have stayed. Maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here bawling my eyes out as I’m writing this. Maybe we would be sitting next to each other now, just holding hands or maybe even kissing.

And as always, here I am with a conclusion that is breaking my heart over and over again the more I think about it.

It was me who made you distance yourself from me.

It was me who made you leave.

It was my own damn fault. Once again.

- e.s. // 20.09.2017

I am a child of divorce,
my parents haven’t been together since I was 8,
and when I tell people that, their response is usually the words “I’m sorry” and
I see the pity in their eyes and I want to say, “I’m not”
because my life would be so different if they were still together, because I would be a different person, because I don’t want to think about who I’d be if he was still a part of my family.
see, I don’t talk about why my parents got divorced and it’s not exactly a secret, it’s just not something I talk about unless it’s brought up.
see, I don’t hide it, I just don’t talk about it because I don’t know how to make the words “my dad was abusive” or “my dad was a manipulative bastard” or “my dad hurt my family more than he helped it” sound less horrible because I don’t know how to handle the false sympathy or the pity
or the way my friends just don’t know what to say

I remember the day they told me that they were splitting up, or rather,
I remember crying at our kitchen table and I remember that I was confused because I was too young to really know what was going on in my own home
see, I didn’t experience the abuse first hand until I was 8.
but now I’m 17 and I am still flinching from the resounding sound of a heavy hand on a fragile face, and I am still flinching from the feeling of being hit
I am still trying to breathe past the pillow he shoved over my face
I am still reeling from a nightmare I had nearly 7 years ago where all that happened was he showed his face in my dreams
I am still looking over my shoulder and bracing myself before I round every corner because I am always on edge and I am always wondering if he will be waiting in the shadows

you see, it took me years to be comfortable making eye contact with people again and even now, it gets hard sometimes
you see, I went to therapy every week with my brothers and I still remember the anxiety before every one
you see, I was forced to see him every week because the court officials didn’t listen when we said, “no, I don’t want to see him” and I still remember the unease and the anger and the frustration that they didn’t listen just because we were kids
well, listen up, because kids can recognize when they are in a bad situation too

and you can say that I’m from a broken home and you might be right but I can tell you that my home is more whole without him in it,
I can tell you that I am better off without a father because my mother is better and stronger than he could ever be

I am a child of a single mother because even when my dad was here, he never lifted a finger to help
I hope I can paint a picture of a fierce warrior because that’s what my mother is.
she is putting on her battle armor everyday and she is fighting to stay alive, to live, to survive
and so am I

—  for the children of divorce // 6.15.16

I’ll be honest when i first listened to bmc i was so confused, i thought michael was jeremy’s college friend and two player game was jeremy complaining and michael bragging about how awesome college is. I thought rich was actually dead after smartphone hour. I thought christine was a bitchy popular girl. I thought brooke and chloe were the same person. I heard jake in upgrade and was like “who the fuck is that” i was so confused. Michael in the bathroom did not register with me at all. I thought the squip was mr. heere because to me they sounded similar. I had no idea who jenna was. It took me three listens to really understand and process it all

Moving On

This can be the most sad but exciting, & scary part of healing from heartbreak. When you are fresh out of your previous relationship, and still heartbroken, this seams like it will never happen. You may think that you will never be able to move on and you may still be trying to work things out with your ex, but when you meet that next person, you’ll know, and you will realize what good that heartbreak brought you. It just takes time.