Life is unfair. You put someone first who puts you second. You study your ass off for a final only to get a C. You give 110% to someone in a relationship who only gives 40%. You’re there for a best friend at 3:00am and the next day they don’t pick up their phone. It seems like you’re giving everyone everything and they’re just walking away with it.
this times a fucking thousand
This text post was originally from my Facebook in 2013
Posted August 30, 2015
*presses reblog button violently*
For those who don’t remember: the b is for bisexual so you have no need to reblog this if you don’t respect bisexuals
nah you know what fuck this
Billie Joe Armstrong does not deserve to be remembered for the iHeart radio shit.
Billie Joe Armstrong does not deserve to have jokes made about Wake Me Up When September Ends.
Billie Joe Armstrong does not deserve to be thought of as the worst periods of his fucking life.
Billie Joe Armstrong went to rehab. Billie Joe Armstrong found the strength to sing about his father dying in front of millions. Billie Joe Armstrong navigated addiction and panic disorders and a fuck ton of other shit some people couldn’t DREAM of and he did it all while keeping his family private and raising two kids damn well. Billie Joe Armstrong respects the hell out of women. Billie Joe Armstrong respects the hell out of the LGBTQ+ community. Billie Joe Armstrong has saved so many lives including his own and even if he makes mistakes he doesn’t fucking deserve to be remembered as them.
Fuck that
Remember Billie Joe Armstrong as someone who survived and helped others survive too.
Tell me stories, or things just to get off your back. I'm here for you. ^-^
you ever been so stressed that youre calm
this is my constant state
my chill is fake
“How are you so calm?!” “I’ve passed beyond stressed, beyond hysteria, into the grey misty indifference of complete shutdown of all but emergency services in my brain.”
i really need to stop falling in love with people who don’t care about me
I’m the founder of the “I suck at keeping the conversation going, but I really like talking to you” club
please reblog this if it is okay to anonymously confess something to you
i am literally only doing this to see if i even matter bc i truly feel like if i actually died no one would notice since everyone leaves my life then i speak to them and they dont even remember me. so if i died, would i matter?
You do matter. Sending puppies your way
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didn’t know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. he wasn’t the only one. there was ben, and mitch, and noah—but kyle’s the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me “because you’re a girl and i’m a boy, shouldn’t we like each other?”
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldn’t just be my friend like he always was
in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. we built block towers and sang to my teacher’s lion king soundtracks when she’d turn the lights off during lunch time. one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.
in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if he’d kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.
when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. people didn’t like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him i’d be his best friend because i’d always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didn’t show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.
in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. he’d ask me personal invasive questions but i didn’t mind because it was attention and i liked attention. i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? but whenever i asked him, he just told me, “girls only date assholes. there’s no room for nice guys like me.”
i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?
he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. being friendly. i thought we were friends. but then, how many times had i thought that before?
how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?
how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said “damnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and she’s only interested in chicks!”
there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if i’d ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how he’d never get laid.
when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.
i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and he’d talk about all my favourite games with me. he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. but he’d put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, he’d still come over every day and do it.
“don’t you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? don’t you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?”
when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who don’t give “nice guys” like them i chance, i always want to just say
when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. and i’m 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesn’t love me.
but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not “what a bitch,” were not “she just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!” were not “im going to keep pushing her until she dates me,”
they were
“she is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best she’s ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.”
so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:
put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. that he just wanted her for a relationship. a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. a girl who’s trust you’ve just shattered.
maybe she friendzoned you. but you girlfriendzoned her, first.
Even if you don’t read it all, read the last sentence. Then you will understand so much about me and other girls.
Some girls make it seem when a bunch of guys like you it’s the goddamm dream but trust me, guys are pretty terrible when you tell them you aren’t into to them. Even if you’re straight or bi or gay or any girl really.
I’m so uncomfortable with the idea that you’re suddenly a woman once you have your period. I was nine when I got my period. You know what else happened when I was nine? Some guy at the local waterpark grabbed my ass. A fully grown adult did this. To a nine year old. And when I said, “don’t” he laughed and told me to change into something other than a two piece bathing suit. I was nine.
Please stamp out the myth that girls “mature” earlier, that there are definite physical passages that mark “womanhood” and thus, sexuality. Let little girls be little girls or I’ll come after you
IVE MET A SEX OFFENDER ON THE APP TINDER AND IM WARNING EVERYONE IN AND AROUND AUSTIN TEXAS OF THIS MAN. I CONTACTED TINDER AND THEY REFUSE TO TAKE ANY FURTHER ACTION. PLEASE REBLOG THIS SO THAT OTHER GIRLS CAN STAY SAFE FROM THIS MAN. HES TERRIBLE.
Liking this iSNT HELPING. REBLOG IT. A SIMPLE LIKE IS NOT LETTING OTHER WOMEN SEE THIS.
But since fetuses already knowing advanced medical sciences aren’t a thing, I figured I’d provide some more valid alternatives:
What if the cure for cancer lives in the mind of someone who has a “black sounding” name and gets their school application thrown out?
What if the cure for cancer lives in the mind of someone who accidentally becomes pregnant where abortion is illegal or very difficult to access and they are forced to quit the sciences to raise the child?
What if the cure for cancer lives in the mind of a fat person whose credibility in the medical field is destroyed because they are assumed to be “unhealthy” and a hypocrite?
What if the cure for cancer lives in the mind of a person who starves to death?
What if the cure for cancer lives in the mind of someone who is murdered by drones or police?
What if the cure for cancer lives in the mind of someone who is raped and cannot continue their research due to trauma?
What if the cure for cancer lives in the mind of someone who is killed in a shooting because some below average teen boy couldn’t get laid?
I mean if you wanna talk about real life actual things that prevent scientific advancement look no further than capitalism, misogyny, ableism, racism, violence, oppression. But I guess that doesn’t allow you to control people’s bodies and push your gross agenda.
This shit needs a million reblogs
Fuck
it’s the one year anniversary of mike brown’s murder so this is a reminder that black lives matter, they have always mattered and they will always matter. take a moment to think about the lives lost to police brutality and how that affects you and other people in your life. Ferguson is not over. we are still here and we are still fighting and we will not be silent.
Forever rebloging this because this needs to be spread.
- Look around you. - Find 5 things you can see, 4 things you can touch, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell and 1 thing you can taste.
This is called grounding. It can help when you feel like you have lost all control of your surroundings.
Please reblog, it could really help someone in need.
I learned this exercise when I was being hospitalized
