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in the small moments

@whereonearthami

🔆

that part in normal people where he starts crying to his therapist about how he thought everything would be different in college, a good different, a good life, better friends, but life turned out a lot worse and he doesn’t have any friends and now he can’t even go back to what he thought he could do better than. there’s nothing left to go back to. the most fucked up thing about childhood is how you spent the entirety of it wishing you were older but then you are older and if it’s horrible, you don’t have the security blanket of saying “it’ll be better when i’m older” like you did when you were a kid cause you are older now & it’s not better, you have no real friends and you can’t even go back to being a kid and it’s a horrible horrible realisation

so, i’ll go. and i’ll stay. and we’ll be okay.

fleabag 2x6, 2019 | normal people 1x12, 2022

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that daughterhood feeling of wanting to blame your mother for how you turned out, wanting to be angry at her for how you’ve inherited her pain and her insecurities, but at the same time wanting to keep coming home to her, out of everyone else in the universe, because you know that if there’s anyone who might be anything like you–if there’s anyone who might even have a clue of what it’s like to be you–it could only be her. and no matter how many times you’ve hurt each other, no matter how difficult it might be to get her to truly see you, you still just want her to love you as you are, to tell you that this isn’t your fault, and to show you that she would keep letting you come home to her.

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it’s like when i choose to see the good side of things, i’m not being naive. it’s strategic and necessary. it’s how i learned to survive through everything btw. if you even care

i know everyones already talked abt this movie but god the way they show human connection. how love exists in every possible universe, and even in a world where you have hot dog fingers and youre married to someone you hate, even when no sentient life had developed, there is still love. there is love everywhere, in everyone if you choose to see it. you are capable of loving every person you ever meet. you are capable of so much fucking love if you choose it. there is always something to love. no one is unlovable.

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“even though you have broken my heart yet again, i wanted to say, in another life i would have really liked doing laundry and taxes with you”

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that daughterhood feeling of wanting to blame your mother for how you turned out, wanting to be angry at her for how you’ve inherited her pain and her insecurities, but at the same time wanting to keep coming home to her, out of everyone else in the universe, because you know that if there’s anyone who might be anything like you–if there’s anyone who might even have a clue of what it’s like to be you–it could only be her. and no matter how many times you’ve hurt each other, no matter how difficult it might be to get her to truly see you, you still just want her to love you as you are, to tell you that this isn’t your fault, and to show you that she would keep letting you come home to her.

[IMAGE ID: A tweet by “minh tâm h. 🌾 on concrete” @HAEDRAULICS on Apr 20: “everything everywhere all at once had me writing down english class notes in the theatre” with two drawings of sets of two nested circles, one black with a white center, one white with a black center. They are respectively labeled, “the bagel (yin) // -life is mostly dull and bad // -joy is fleeting and ultimately meaningless” and, “the googly eye (yang) // -life is mostly good and worthwhile // suffering is transient and fixable” END ID]