I think my favorite part of being a “gifted” child who learned to associate pleasure and praise with achievement, is that you grow up into this double bind of wanting to be enough in yourself, to unyoke your sense of worth from what you can do at a given moment, how many ‘A’s you can rack up on the report card of life, because that’s false and harmful and limiting, you are not your resume—
but the minute you start to entertain the idea, all you can hear is that nasty, insidious voice whispering, it’s only the people who can’t hack it who believe that.
…yep, that’s definitely my favorite thing.
my self esteem has two levels
- im a worthless piece of shit who deserves no love
- bow down before bitches i am your queen
job hunting is like having a full time job only it doesn’t pay anything, you work completely alone and you feel like a worthless piece of shit all the time
do you remember the first time you were called annoying?
how your breath stopped short in your chest
the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze
the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue.
your eyes never left the floor that day.
you were 13.
you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,”
apologies littering every other sentence,
words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years.
i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious.
all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard
for 3 minutes
for 10 minutes
for 2 hours
there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart;
mostly because they can’t handle their own.
but you will never be
and have never been
tries to do things: becomes overridden with anxiety
doesn’t do things: becomes overridden with anxiety
the really shitty thing about being told that youre smart your whole entire life is that as soon as you dont understand something you just kind of completely shut down and its this big shitty crisis because maybe youre not as smart as youve always been told
this is actually why ive been reduced to a quivering lump of nothingness that just stays in bed all day
Its hard for people without depression to understand when some days that just dropping a cup of water will bring you to tears because they think oh this is just one little thing but you see it as oh my god I can’t even get water without fucking up and now I’ve made a huge mess I shouldn’t even try
*searches for an item of clothing*
*clicks the ‘plus size’ search option*
A Ravenpuff Virgo is a very nervous creature, and they aren’t exactly perfectionists but they want to have everything a specific way, which could easily be an organized mess. Either way, they have everything in it’s place and this is how they like it, as they greatly fear change. If you mess something up in their little world, they will not openly tell you as they are rather shy, but instead they will turn it into inner turmoil, burning and worrying over it for days, trying to find ways to fix it without hurting your feelings. They just want everyone to be happy, and in their attempts to keep it this way they can practically drive themselves crazy with their own thought process.
When I was 17, I was obsessed with my best friend. I loved her open-heartedly and possessively, the way only a 17 year-old can love.
It is a feeling familiar to any teenage girl who has been in platonic love with another teenage girl. Together you create a tiny, obsessive world: in-jokes, coded words, frantically loving bands and films and books because they’re meant for you, they’re speaking to you – and not just you, singular, because there is no you, singular any more; there is only Us, Me and You, the pair of us so bright and vivid and glitteringly perfect that everyone else in the world feels like a grey shadow miming inanities.
My love for her was glorious – and then it wasn’t. She helped me see that you can’t obsessively love someone without obsessively hating them too."
emotional abuse is so difficult to deal with because there’s so much doubt involved, there’s nothing concrete and physical like bruises or smacked skin, it’s subtle and you wonder if you’re just too sensitive or you have a victim complex. in fact you feel bad about even calling it abuse because it feels like you’re trivializing people who have been abused for ‘real’ because emotional abuse doesn’t involve an abuser killing you or harming you physically, it just drives you to do that dirty work to yourself. then you blame yourself for the measures someone else drove you to and that’s just so awful