I just want a friend...
Color Me Curious
Sade Olutola
h
đ©” avery cochrane đ©”

oozey mess
todays bird
occasionally subtle

shark vs the universe
đ
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
sheepfilms
đȘŒ

izzy's playlists!
YOU ARE THE REASON
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
Fai_Ryy
Cosimo Galluzzi

tannertan36
almost home
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Malaysia
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from South Korea
seen from United Kingdom

seen from St. Vincent & Grenadines
seen from China

seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from France
seen from Togo
seen from Ukraine
seen from Argentina
seen from Italy

seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from United States
seen from China
@almoststrongenough
I just want a friend...
I need to get this out
My brother in law died.
My heart hurts. Iâm overwhelmed and broken and Iâm falling apart. I canât find the words. I just need someone to be with me. To hug me and tell me itâs going to be okay.
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow. đČ
Washoe was a chimp who was taught sign language.
One of Washoeâs caretakers was pregnant and missed work for many weeks after she miscarried. Roger Fouts recounts the following situation:
âPeople who should be there for her and arenât are often given the cold shoulderâher way of informing them that sheâs miffed at them. Washoe greeted Kat [the caretaker] in just this way when she finally returned to work with the chimps. Kat made her apologies to Washoe, then decided to tell her the truth, signing âMY BABY DIED.â Washoe stared at her, then looked down. She finally peered into Katâs eyes again and carefully signed âCRYâ, touching her cheek and drawing her finger down the path a tear would make on a human (Chimpanzees donât shed tears). Kat later remarked that one sign told her more about Washoe and her mental capabilities than all her longer, grammatically perfect sentences.â [23]
Washoe herself lost two children; one baby died shortly after birth of a heart defect, the other baby, Sequoyah, died of a staph infection at two months of age.
more about Washoe:
after the death of her children, researchers were determined to have Washoe raise a baby and brought in a ten month chimpanzee named Loulis. one of the caretakers went to Washoeâs enclosure and signed âi have a baby for you.â Washoe became incredibly excited, yelling and swaying from side to side, signing âbabyâ over and over again. then she signed âmy baby.â
the caretaker came back with Loulis, and Washoeâs excitement disappeared entirely. she refused to pick Loulis up, instead signing âbabyâ apathetically; it was clear that the baby she thought she was getting was going to be Sequoyah. eventually Washoe did approach Loulis, and by the next day the two had bonded and from then on she was utterly devoted to him.
*information shamelessly paraphrased from When Elephants Weep by Jeffrey Masson.
Even more interestingly, after Washoe and Loulis bonded, she started teaching him American Sign Language the same way that human parents teach their children language. It only took Loulis eight days to learn his first sign from Washoe, and aside from the seven that his human handlers learned around him, he learned to speak in ASL just as fluently as Washoe and was able to communicate with humans in the same way she could.
now if yâall donât think this is the tightest shit you can get outta my face
See why would y'all tell me this sad shit this early in the morning
I think we really need to reaffirm now that no amount of homophobia can be acceptable in our culture. There is no such this as harmless or victimless homophobia. All homophobia contributes to violence against us. You can not âdisagreeâ with lgbt peopleâs âlifestylesâ without supporting the rhetoric and legislation that puts us in very real danger.
Homophobia isnât that black and white though. You can hate the sin and still love the sinner.Â
OK, as a queer person who grew up in a genuinely loving, caring, utterly wonderful, and still deeply homophobic Church, let me try to fill in what youâre not understanding about this whole âLove the sinnerâ deal.
When we refer to people like you as âHomophobicâ I want to be clear what weâre saying here. This is not a judgment of your intent. We are not describing you as a hateful person, as an aggressive or violent person. But we are saying that your actions and your attitudes participate in and reinforce a system of rhetoric that encourages violence against LGBT people, and, far, far more importantly, that forces millions of LGBT people to live in shame.
Thatâs really what this comes down to. Not hate. Not violence. Shame.
Consider the point purely theologically. Jesus tells us that to desire a sinful thing is as bad as to act on that desire. My lusting after another mans wife is as bad as actually sleeping with her. My genuine desire to hurt someone is as bad as actually hurting them.
So when you tell me that loving another man is a sin, youâre not just talking about physical acts of intimacy. You donât get to draw the line there. You donât get to pretend that I can be bisexual so long as I never actually physically act on it (which is already a terrible burden to place on someone). Youâre saying that every time I look at a guy and imagine how soft his lips would be, or think about how beautiful his eyes are, I am sinning. I am a sinner every time a dude walks past me with a tight sweater on that shows of his arms. Every time he has nice hair or a nice smile.
My love, according to you, is a sin. That is the burden you are forcing people to live under. That burden forced me so deep into the closet that I didnât even know I was there. It forced me to repress every genuine feeling of sexual attraction for other men, and to live for years with those feelings straining to get out, whilst I struggled with the constant guilt and shame that came from having those thoughts.
And I am one of the lucky ones, because Iâm alive to have this conversation. Because for many, many LGBT people that guilt and shame manifests as self-harm, substance abuse, low esteem that leads them into abusive relationships, and very often suicide.
You tell yourself that youâre one of the good ones because you donât hate us. You only hate what we âdoâ. But what we âdoâ is living. Itâs being alive and whole and a part of this world, and if you genuinely believe that we canât have that then you might as well put the gun to our heads and pull the trigger. Because youâre already doing that, you just donât have the guts to admit it.
âYou only hate what we do, but what we do is livingâ Wow. This is beautiful and so well written
You call it angry, I call it scratching at myself until my skin tears. Lava boiling inside of me, like Iâm about to snap any moment. Like I donât have control over myself and I just want to hurt something. I call it shaky hands. I call it grinding my teeth together. Punching my thighs until they are covered in bruises. I call it screaming until my throat bleeds. You call it sad, I call it laying in my bed for two days, unable to eat. Crying until my eyes are swollen shut. Accepting the fact I am disgusting, worthless, unlovable. I call it taking ativan until I am so numb I forget I want to kill myself. I call it unable to talk, sleep, unable to function. You call it happy, I call it madly in love. Like Iâm floating above everything. Nothing can hurt anymore. I call it giggling nonstop. Telling people Iâm better now. Bragging about how flawless I am. I call it a rush of pure fulfilment. You call them emotions, I call them drowning. Because nothing is ever in between. Iâm all or nothing. I donât know any middles. Everything I feel is so strong it could knock me off my feet. I call it going from suicidal to content in an hour. I call it fucking exhausting.
Living with borderline personality (via healingx)
Trigger warning: Breakfast
Holy shit.
reasons why we donât make fun of seemingly odd triggers
I sat here staring at that last panel for a solid minute, reading then reading again. This is just something else.
Youâll always remember them but eventually you wonât miss them anymore and thatâs how youâll know youâve moved on.
Sue Zhao (via blossomfully)
We were always going to say goodbye, werenât we?â âYeah. I think so.â âI loved you though. I loved you so much.â A pause. âI know. I know. âI loved you too.â
S.Z. // Excerpt from a book Iâll never write #185 (via blossomfully)
I just hate myself so much. Why am I such an awful person?
My suicide note is not written on paper. It is written in the lines on my wrists and the bags under my eyes and the heavy weight of anxiety that presses my shoulders into the earth beneath my feet. My suicide note is missed meals and cancelled plans and sleepless nights and thinking about every mistake Iâve ever made. My suicide note is not apologetic words on pretty stationary. Itâs angry yelling and hopeless sobbing and wondering how I let myself get this bad.
h.r. (via redhead-writes)