what is a personal blog

anonymous asked:

"Do you have bi-polar" thats not even????????? Bipolar is when ur mood fluctuates from 0-60,,, not when ur opinions change???? I???? Why cant people even insult mental illness correctly,,, justtt,,, jesus

“Split personality”
Ah yes because opinions change over time that must mean I have split personality disorder what a great observation. Next on my blog: I get called clinically depressed for posting a frown face :(

anonymous asked:

@dingleminyard @thisdamndesire @evak-malec @justleavemebreathless

@dingleminyard

Do they follow me: Yes | No

Do I follow them: Yes | No | Now

What I think about their blog: listen cora is the worst person you could ever hope to have on your dash. she will destroy you with gifsets. honestly, i don’t know how anyone is supposed to survive her blog BUT. she is also wonderful and kind and i get so excited when i see her pop up and tbh people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones so obviously i ADORE that she kills me. plus she is my no1 helper in ruining @twatcitytrick‘s life :))))

@thisdamndesire

Do they follow me: Yes | No

Do I follow them: Yes | No | Now

What I think about their blog: i don’t talk to em much but i see her around all the time and she is a literal angel. great thoughts, so in love with aaron dingle and robron (ride or die!!!!!!!!!!!) and she is literally amazing. i need to talk more with you because honestly, em! i adore you <3

@evak-malec

Do they follow me: Yes | No

Do I follow them: Yes | No | Now

What I think about their blog: bec was so lovely to me in her one of these that i don’t think i could ever do her justice. she’s the most honest, wonderful, thoughtful person. she always has kind words, DOESN’T DESERVE ANY HATE, and is such a blessing for this fandom - and for me. i love talking to her, and being able to brighten her day is one of my favourite things. i love you, bec!

@justleavemebreathless

Do they follow me: Yes | No | Not Sure

Do I follow them: Yes | No | Now

What I think about their blog: i suck because i love jacqueline with my whole heart but wasn’t following her. her blog is so good and such a great collection! malec! robron! some show i don’t watch called skam! she is always quick to message people she thinks needs a pick me up, and i want to talk to her more. i think you’re fab!

anonymous asked:

Go look at the blog 10kbellarke. The only post on there is the bellarke we are trying to get to 10k notes. An extremely dedicated person, whoever runs it.

BLESSED ME WHAT A GOOD BLOG @ EVERYONE GO CHECK THIS OUT

i. domesticity

I drink milk every day because my doctor says I need it to grow. Kind of like I need this calcium rush in order to make my bones stronger so I stop cracking them so easily. Preventing them from ever reverting to the weak, knobbly knees of last summer when a boy I had a crush on. Had a crush on, crushed me. Like a pulp. Into grains. Like a spoon grinding up soggy cereal swimming at the bottom of a bowl. I wake up in the middle of the night, remembering I didn’t drink 3 glasses today, and run to the refrigerator in my socks and chug it straight from the gallon, barbaric and yearning like a schoolgirl hitching her skirt up too high, and picture the white flowing through my veins. Softening me. Rounding me out. Giving me curves. I get a brain freeze instead and pray I’ll stop crying over spills and that I can sleep with this cold lurching in my stomach.

ii. vicinity

Maybe one day my hair will stop being so limp in the heat, but I don’t think that kind of thing can be anticipated, so I just have to wait. Girls like me live in the back of an un-air-conditioned convenience store, ratty sweatpants, tight tank tops, and crawl out with week-old receipts bursting from their pockets. Like glued ribcage kind of girls, like elastic hair tie, red marks around the wrist kind of girls. The cashier doesn’t mind when I snag a magazine from the rack and browse through it without paying because no matter how hard I try, I end up looking pre-pubescent anyway. And they let things slide. For a girl like me, at least. I’m saying, lopsided bun, wide eyes, a mouthful of crooked teeth, stars pulling them into their places, I was always too scared to get braces. The cover has some headline about how to enlarge your breasts naturally, which I think might be useful, and another about how to communicate effectively with others without saying hurtful things, which makes me laugh. I flip to the back to check my horoscope and eat that prophetic, adolescent shit catered to the teenage soul up like Eucharist laid under the tongue. Swallow down a spoonful of March’s: “Prepare to face some stress this month, but that’s okay! You’ll be able to get through it and find time to relax.” I want to rip out the page and shove it into my bra, like keeping these soft, meaningless words close to my chest will make them seep into my heart and change me. Stop making me think so much, fill my brain up with Arizona tea and static instead. But I’m cheap, and I shove the magazine back. I think my chest will stay flat forever.

iii. mobilization

I seek healing. Mending. I’m fingernails deep, sitting in the back of a subway at 3 a.m., pressing crescent moons into the leather seat, trying to dig up salvation. You can’t find that here, you can’t find that in the cracks between the tiles, you can’t find comfort in the ground up cigarette butt stamped into the floor. I’m wishing against this fogged up glass I could say anything, anything that would make sense for once, so someone could help me. Like please, my mind is bending in backwards, like please, I don’t think this underdeveloped chest can take any more of this resentment or it’s going to explode through my ribcage, out of my flesh, like please, I don’t want to hurt anymore. And it’s not my fault that I launch myself around like I’m in some sick little competition, pretending I don’t care, like I’m having the time of my life. Of course I’m not, of course I’m not, I don’t think having your hands shake and your brain go fuzzy whenever you think a little too much is fun, something to be documented for the world to see. I guess I’m different from other people that way, I’d rather people think I’m having a good time than actually have one without anyone knowing. I wish I knew how to sew, so I could stitch up my fibrillating heart, no matter how sloppy and crooked, but the needle jabs my finger as the subway lurches left, and I bleed, I bleed, I bleed.

iv. unearthliness

My mom told me not to walk naked in front of the altar. Disrespectful, she called it, and even though I agree, sometimes I test my divinity and emerge from the bathroom, the steam from the shower wafting off smoke like the incense in its pot. Young god, skin tinted green from fake gold. Young god, empty stomach, fruit scooped out of its rind, leaving me seedless. This hatred has roots, and I don’t know whether I want to dig out my insides with my hands or fill myself up until I’m close to bursting. I let people think the scratches on my knees are from a night of alcohol and a boy tugging my hair. Of course, it’s that and not child worship on a scratchy rug, not begging for forgiveness, not praying for glamour and glory, not hoping for. Of course it’s not hoping for something better.

—  this pain lasts in every location
One of the hardest things is to watch someone slowly lose interest in you.

Listen up.
It doesn’t matter what some people might say.
MikaYuu is a 100% valid ship.
It’s been validated by FUNimation, Wit Studio, even some VAs…
Heck, it’s the most recognized ship by both the fandom and the official crew.
So don’t let what some haters say get to you, okay?
I’m here to bring you all the reassurance you need to keep believing in this ship.

#MondayMotivation

There’s No Such Thing As I Can’t

 If you are reading this you are alive in a day and age that has never been seen before. You are witnessing the dawning of the greatest technological age that the world has ever seen - and you have the audacity to say you can’t?

Twenty years ago there was no Instagram for you to post your latest selfie. Twenty years ago there was no blogging platform for you to reach out to like-minded individuals. Twenty years ago you had very limited choices.

Today, right now, you have the ability to click a few buttons and instantly communicate with people all over the world. This has never been the case until relatively recently - who knows how long it’s going to last?

With this in mind I want to encourage you to think about what is possible. What is it that truly matters to you? What is it that you could talk about for hours on end and never get bored.

Take that topic to the internet and Google it. Read every article, every blog, watch every YouTube video on it. Then think about what you could add to the reservoir of information on your topic - what’s your take on it and how does it differ to what’s already out there?

The way I see it - if people can get paid millions to play video games every day - I can sure as hell can make a living doing something I love. And I won’t stop until I find a way that works - because I’m alive in a day and age that allows me to do so.

If you feel like you weren’t “destined” to do what you truly love - take out your phone and look at it. This is your gateway into creating the life you’ve always wanted to live. 

The only time you can’t do something is when you’re dead.

Peace & positive vibes.

Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves. All people live in their own dream, in their own mind; they are in a completely different world from the one we live in. When we take something personally, we make the assumption that they know what is in our world, and we try to impose our world on their world.
—  Don Miguel Ruiz

Times like these we need Star Trek more than ever. It’s not just a show. It’s a collection of ideals, and the most central of these ideals is simply “we are better than this. Humanity is better than this. And someday we’ll act like it.”

I’m so desperate for that hope right now.

3

My hair decided it wanted to play nice today even though I forgot my hair brush, so I documented this rare phenomenon with some gratuitous pictures of myself, or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bombshell, AKA Me