"I had to be more than just a brother, I had to be a father. And I had to be a mother..."
“I was the only one who could stop him from crying by climbing into his crib, even when I was too scared and upset to talk.
I was the one who changed his diapers, and bathed him when Dad was just a shell.
I was the one who walked him to kindergarten on my way to school.
I was the one who made sure he had a lunch to eat, even if it was just a snack. And even if it meant I went hungry.
I was the one who patched up every cut and scraped knee. I was the one who wiped up every tear, and carried him back to the motel via piggyback.
I was the one who told him stories at bedtime, even if I couldn’t fully make out the words myself.
I was the one who helped him learn how to read and write.
I was the one who cooked for him when Dad would take off for days at a time.
I was the one who shared a bed with him after he’d have nightmares. I was the one who held him close and told him that nothing was ever gonna’ happen to him after Dad’s response was to give him a ‘45.
I was the one who stole Christmas presents from the nice house down the street just so Sammy wouldn’t wake up and think that Santa had forgotten him. Again. And I was the one who had to tell him Santa wasn’t real.
I was also the one who told him that monsters were real.
I was the one who rode him to the ER on my handlebars after he jumped from the roof and broke his arm.
I was the one who took care of him when he’d get sick.
I was the one who made sure he had clothes that actually fit him after each of his twelve-billion growth spurts. And I was the one who comforted him after the endless bullying he’d receive at school because those clothes had come from the thrift store.
I was the one who stood up for him every time someone picked on him in school.
I was the one who stole textbooks for him so that he wouldn’t fall behind.
I was the one who had to work an ungodly amount of hours at the garage to earn enough money so we could eat when Dad would spend weeks gone in our teens.
I was the one who scraped together the money for Sammy to go on every field trip his school put on so that he wouldn’t miss out, even if it meant not going on my own and losing class credits.
I was the one who watched him fall deeper and deeper into an ugly pit during his teens when he barely had the motivation to get himself out of bed. I was the one who had to remove meds or anything sharp from the motel, just in case. I was the one who sat awake by his bed every night during that period, panicked that my little brother was going to do something stupid.
I was the one who bought him his first laptop, and the look of pure disbelief and unadulterated adoration was worth every hour of overtime I’d done for the last three months.
I was the one who dropped him off at Stanford after Dad told him not to bother coming back and kicked him to the curb.
And I was the one who spent three years living in constant fear because my little brother was at Stanford all alone.
I did all of that, without anyone having to tell me to. So you look me in the eye, and you tell me if that was fair?”
I am writing you this letter in the hopes that you someday come to know just how beautiful you really are.
I mean, has anyone ever told you just how much you deserve to heal? Has anyone ever said to you, “My God, my God, even with those track marks, even with those sunken, sullen eyes, even with that tired heart, I am so glad that you are still here.”
Dear addict, Did you know that you are not a bad person even when you use? Did you know that just because your problems are more obvious, it does not make you any more different?
Dear addict, Dear leech on society, Dear open wounds,
Do not feel like an infection just because your soul is so inflamed. Do not pick your skin tonight. Do not tell yourself you are worthless even after stealing all of your mother’s money from her change purse.
Do not plan your funeral on the street next to the subway because you do not have to die tonight! Because I know those dirty, blistered feet just need to rest, and they can rest here.
Close your eyes.
Dear addict, I love you. Dear addict, You are not your problems. Dear addict, I’ve seen you rise once before. Dear addict, You have a future.
Dear addict, look now to the mirror. Never have I seen a sewer rat with such hopeful eyes before. Never have I seen a piece of garbage with such a loving, beautiful family.
Dear addict, Do you see what I am seeing?
Dear human, you are worth every single hour you will spend recovering. You are brighter than any star you were born from. You are more loved than your aching, broken heart leads you to believe, more than you can even imagine right now.
Dear mother, father, brother, sister, lover, best friend, Do it for yourself. Do it because you deserve the treatment.
I want more fics where Stiles
is unaffected by Derek’s hotness. Like, real people interact with attractive
ppl every day without making a fool of themselves or drooling or doing stupid
things. Instead of Stiles being dumb, unable to talk, or immediately falling in
love with Derek, I want him to look at Derek, think “wow that guy’s
hot,” and then immediately go “that dude is out of my league so
moving on.” So, Stiles just treats Derek like he does everyone else.
Derek is really really into Stiles. So, he does
everything he can to impress Stiles. He wears tight jeans, tank tops, works out
with Scott and Danny in front of him, and takes off his shirt and walks around
him front of him. Except…nothing works.
Derek never has trouble getting people he wants. He knows he’s hot, and so
he works that. Except it’s not working on
And Derek is really really confused. Whenever he takes off
his shirt or wears his best ass-hugging jeans, Stiles notices, sure. But so
does Allison, who’s basically married to Scott, and Lydia,
who Derek has overheard screwing Jackson
too many times to count for the past couple years. Kira blushes, and Erica -
well, Erica may be engaged to Boyd, but she never misses an opportunity to put
her hands all over Derek’s sweaty abs and pecs. Danny always fucks him with his
eyes, and Parrish stares a little too long, his cheeks a little too pink, and
Derek thinks maybe he should hook up with Parrish again just to appease his
bruised ego. Because Stiles looks, but
then he stops looking because apparently it doesn’t impress him.
Please tell me that Green actually sees through her pain, and it hurts to see her smile because he knows, but despite all that she’s still selfless, putting others before herself; showing concern to those around her, even when they don’t
The words “It’s just been so long since I’ve actually been treated like a person.” echoes in his head; how long has it been since she was last shown respect? He had to, he just had to.
First things first, this is my spirit talking. I am not really here. I have died.
I have so many things I want to say and I don’t really know where to begin. It’s been a very long day but it was worth every hour spent standing with people pushing all over the place.
Let me just say that I had never seen Harry from so up close - we were in the third row, and throughout the length of the whole concert, and still now, I cannot wrap my head around how beautiful Harry is. Pictures don’t make him justice at all. The only word I could think whilst looking at him is etheral.
That said, the concert was an out of body experience. Harry was clearly enjoying himself, making jokes and being a dork, but he was also nervous, especially at the beginning.
He sang flawlessly every single song and said a few bts news about his songs, what they are about, who he wrote them with, and where. He took the time to introduce his band and the crowd went crazy when Sarah Jones was introduced. She was also wearing a glittery pink shirt and Harry said ‘and yes, that is my shirt’. I love him so much.
He interacted with the crowd a lot and made a few jokes with us. He was always making sure we were okay and stopped for a minute when a fan was feeling unwell and had to be taken away. He is so careful.
HE CALLED US HIS ‘FRIENDS’ and my heart burst. He also said that he did his first stage dive last week and it was nothing as glamorous as he expected.
Kiwi and Only Angel are two jems and had us all jumping like crazy. Same with Stockholm Syndrome. Harry was so happy and amazed that we knew all the lyrics already.
Sign of The Times live is a mystical experience. I was facetiming @zapboobear during that song and there is one bit, when the rhythm starts to get faster, that I genuinely felt like I was going to pass out because it was /that/ good. The energy, the voice, Harry’s passion… I am absolutely speechless.
This concert genuinely was one of the best experineces of my life. I am beyond proud of Harry and I wish him so, so well. He deserves the world. He is a talented boy with a heart of gold to whom should be handed the world.
He usually took you to the mall. Not particularly because you wanted to go, but because that was all he could do in the time he had squeezed into his busy schedule for you. After their debut the company had started working Vernon and his group more than ever, especially recently, and now your time with him had been cut down to an hour or so a week, but it was worth it, every hour you spent with him was amazing. You understood that being an Idol meant a lot of work, a lot of practice and promotion and planning and creation, but he was tired, you could see it whenever you saw him and in his texts as they came to you at 5 in the morning while he was up working in the studio. He didn’t complain though, so you didn’t say anything even though it hurt you to see his exhaustion and stress. You had met him in his trainee days, when there was still work, but he seemed more relaxed about it. He seemed tenser now, although that might also have to do with the fact that you two hadn’t had sex in a while, because of his schedule and you having to meet him at his studio, and the two of you never found yourself with any alone time, he was either working or surrounded by his group members, there had been no getting him alone for weeks.
You’re exhausted. You
shouldn’t be misunderstood you’re ecstatic of course you are but God
you’ve never been so tired in your life. Twelve hours of labour will
do that to a person you suppose. It was worth every hour because
sleeping soundly beside you in her own little hospital cot is your
baby girl. The sweetest, most perfect little girl that the world has
or will ever see. You imagine most new mothers think that, you just
happen to be the only one that’s right. With a man like Finn as a
father she was always going to be wonderful from the get go.
BINCH!!!!!!!! MY BOY MOGAMI FUCKING KEIJI HAS COME HOME
I’M SO PUMPED!!!!!!!!!!!! keiji was the character i wanted most, like…. he was the one… mogami keiji is my one and only. i hardly played for any other character but i played enough to get a few diamonds here and there.
i saved up for this moment. this one moment in my mobpuz100 career. my job is done, please lay me to rest with mogami in my character roster. god bless.
i won him about 7-8 tries on tier 3 (three) i spent a good amount of diamonds on him and lost tons of sleep but it was all worth it. every waking hour. now i’m gonna max keiji out and go party!!! 🎉 🎉 🎉
SLAMS TABLET DOWN I AM DONE ONE ORDER OF NOYAHINA COMIN RIGHT UP
MERRY CHRISTMAS @parasite-ghost U HUGE MEME i think this took me… at most 10+ hours to do… from start to finish holy sh ti but bruh it was worth every hour and minute and second >w0/ i hope you like it!!
Hi so. For all the theatre freshmen and sophomore out here, Mama Violet’s got a story for you.
I was a lowkey overachieving junior. I had all honors and AP classes, I was a section captain in marching band, and I was a big part of my school’s drama program. I had everything balanced to the tee, the perfect amount of time devoted to each subject and craft so I wouldn’t fail any.
Or so I thought.
I am as actively passionate about marching band as I am about theatre…my director didn’t like that much. He has a personal stipulation with the band director, and oftentimes took it out on me. He would call our marching band “mediocre at best” (even though we were always state finalists at competition? But okay!). He would refuse to let me leave a practice I wasn’t even called for once, and threatened to fail me for missing a rehearsal to attend my winter concert (our winter concerts are graded, since band is a class). Point being, I was pressed.
My marching band, however, was very loving and supportive in the case of me being in theatre. They didn’t like the director much because of how rude he was to the band director and about the band, but they realized that I loved theatre more than I could express. And if I loved it, they loved it.
Anyways, closing night comes around. I’m heartbroken because three of the friends that promised to show up have now texted me with some shitty excuses about it being the closing night of some movie. I was crying backstage and everything. I go through the show, perform as well as I always do, and step offstage after bows, not even wanting go outside for flowers and meet and greets. My cast mate comes backstage and goes “Vi, step outside. There’s a lot of people here for you.” I was confused as hell, so I got up and walked out to see who had came.
The entire marching band sat in that tiny little black box theatre. All 35 members smiled and waved and together, they brought me 100 flowers (ten from each section captain and 30 from my director). I cried so hard, laughed, hugged each and every one, and got the best pictures. It was worth every hour of missed sleep I had and every moment of guilt tripping I went through.
I know this is a long post and I don’t even know if it will get posted but….theatre kids, don’t be afraid to expand your artistic horizons. Don’t listen to anyone who says you can only be good at one thing or tried to make you be good at only one thing. I am a senior now, and if there is one thing I’ve learned….it’s that talent can be taught, but true love for the art comes from that little thing caged in your ribs. Aloha.