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
having curly hair is like playing a really
scary guessing game where you don’t know what it’s going to do until it does it and the only way to fix it is to take another shower
but then sometimes u just wake up and ur bedhead is exactly like what ppl spend hours and many dollars in hair product trying to achieve
Sexual orientation: Hyper specific types of socioculturally aware dudes
and basically all women.
Tip for other bi women: if you want men to get really mad at you, just mention that you have higher standards for men than for women or that you might prefer women over men.
Anonymous asked: do you just not like boys anymore or?
i mean i’m still attracted to men i just don’t wanna talk to them ever
we talked about catullus 51 today which is a latin translation of a poem by sappho about watching a girl she had a crush on talking to a man and im sitting there like wow the struggle is 2500 years old
when you’re a confident fat girl you’re not allowed to have a bad day. your confidence is never allowed to waver. because people are waiting like vultures to swoop in and gorge themselves on your pain. because the only thing they hate more than their own body is your body. because one bad day means that all those good days don’t count and you never loved yourself. because when you’re a fat girl you’re not allowed to love yourself. when you’re a fat girl your self love is made of glass and it gets chipped away every day as soon as you walk out the door and some days it cracks and some days it shatters completely. but that doesn’t mean it was never there and it doesn’t mean that tomorrow you aren’t going to glue that shit back together.
If you have bipolar disorder and have to count spoons, you still have to count them when you’re manic. But instead of counting them because you don’t have many you have to count them because you have two giant handfuls of them but once you put one down you can’t pick it back up so you have to figure out how to use the maximum number of spoons before you drop them.
Or that’s my experience anyway.
having anxiety and depression is like being scared and tired at the same time. it’s the fear of failure but no urge to be productive, and it’s wanting friends while hating socializing. it’s like running a marathon with the willpower of a corpse because you want to get to the end but you also want to sleep and evaporate into the soil and become compost for snails and flowers because then at least you’re useful
having difficulty with the transition from ‘impressive child’ to ‘below-average adult’