styofa doing anything
★
DEAR READER
No title available
will byers stan first human second
Stranger Things
AnasAbdin
Three Goblin Art
Janaina Medeiros
NASA
JVL
h
oozey mess
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
taylor price
No title available
Peter Solarz
Jules of Nature
Kaledo Art
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan
seen from Maldives
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
@cataclysmoftheend-blog
Do you ever just look at a person for a really long time and imagine where life will take them in five years? 10 years? Decades from now? It kinda makes me appreciate being a part of that persons now, knowing that I may not be apart of their decades from now.
Socially Awkward
What do you do when no one understands your Doctor Who reference? You hide behind your pizza slice like a moron....that's what.
The seriously questionable things we do after midnight makes me wonder if your best friend sleeping over should be considered a type of drug.
self care is declaring yourself dictator for life and then becoming a god after getting stabbed 23 times
Your friends can’t kill you if you don’t have any friends
Am I the only one that's bothered that girls get called conceited if they are confident about themselves? Is there a line that we aren't suppose to cross? Like, "Here's the line of self-hatred, and here's another line called 'conceit and vanity' don't cross either one of them or we'll be forced to judge you hard."
i’m uh. watery eyed
Writer problems
Do you ever just...like create a couple and then eventually you can't remember when you started obsessing over them, but you're constantly thinking about the two as if they were a part of some fandom? Except only you exist within this fandom and now they are kinda your OTP. Does this make me a type of narcissist? I think I need help.
Socially Awkward
"It's going to be okay. No one will even remember it." They tell me, and no matter how many times I try convince myself, it doesn't always work like that. It's three parts perfectionism, and one part wishing I was normal. They may not remember it, but I will. One year later, even as lay in my college dorm thousands of miles from all embarrassing moments, I'll still be kicking myself. I'll still be recreating the anxiety. I'll still be conjuring the fear. They may not remember it, but I will.
Socially Awkward
My words flew out the window, and I can't take them back. Will you bury them for me?
Sonnet
I see the crinkled lines upon her head And bunches branch out from the mans kind eyes The creases on their mouths take time to spread Every low carving stories to the highs In a world full of empty promises Statistically they were doomed from the start The heartless societies dominance Questing to pull the old lovers a part Their frowns and smiles exchanged like secrets Each finger clinging desperately to hope Of breaking this life's unending sequence Three words still promised and never revoked Side by side as life's last breath leaves their lungs I love you still lingers upon their tongues
Poem
***trigger warning: mention of rape***
Let me paint you a picture of the moment I realized degrading women wasn’t a thing of the past.
I was 5
8
10
as I watched my father cheat on my mother
And then blame her for his problem.
I was 12
14
16
When I discovered a guy would tell me anything
just to knock another notch on his bed.
It was 3
2
1
Like fireworks behind my eyes
When I realized
That I was a Queen if it was your sheets
Or a whore if it was someone else’s.
And when I decided no to sex before marriage?
Now I’m a prude.
That hurts too.
To the man who whistled to me from his car
I was fifteen
And I burned those jeans.
The neck is too high.
Don't you want a man?
Your skirt is too short.
Now you’re asking for attention.
Play hard to get
And he’ll stop chasing.
Act too needy
And he’ll think you’re too easy.
You’ve got opinions?
Well he’s got them too
except when you cry rape
His seem to matter more than yours do.
Just find a happy medium.
It will all be alright;
Though, these days the medium is self-defense
And a switchblade.
But he was provoked
And now you’re the perp with the restraining order.
today at work i let someone into a dressing room and they said “thanks” and half of me tried to say “you’re welcome” and the other half tried to say “no problem” and i ended up saying “your problem”
this post had me in tears
I was hoping the notes would be full of similar stories, but they’re not, so I’ll add my story for anyone else looking for more laughs:
I had to go to a library to pay a fee and I was practicing in the car between “I have to pay a fine” and “I have to pay a fee” and I walked in and firmly stated “I have to pee” and slapped a five dollar bill on the counter (the fee was like ten cents), and walked out. This was like three years ago and I still haven’t been back,
My friend was driving and we were almost past our turnoff so I tried to say “quick” and “fast” at the same time and I ended up screaming “QUACK” which ended up with him judging me very hard and missing the turn
philip-the-nickel
in volleyball in tenth grade my team lost almost every single game but this one time we were ahead and I was sitting on the bench literally PRAYING that we would win and all of my teammates started cheering for my friend who was about to serve and I tried to join in the cheers but instead of yelling encouragement I accidentally yelled “DEAR HEAVENLY FATHER”
Socially Awkward
Person: Hi there! What's your name?
Me: Uh, um, uh....Hi?
Socially Awkward
Resisting the urge to jump out the window because you stuttered and everyone is staring.
Socially Awkward
Talking a lot and laughing loudly in an effort to not puke
Pinterest Writing Prompt: The Dark Hour
There is an hour after midnight that only a select few experience; it’s called the Dark Hour.
Part I
I started noticing a change in my sleeping pattern when I was three years old. I woke up around the same time every single night. I remembered calling out to my parents over and over. I remember screaming and crying into a pitch black room where my Hello Kitty night light ceased to ignite the place in its calming glow. They didn’t come. They never came, and the older I got, I realized they never would.
I was eight years old when I started realizing there was something truly supernatural about this darkness that came every night. I had long since stopped calling for my parents, choosing instead to hide under the duvet until my eyes finally closed from fatigue, but one night I decided I had, had enough of my brief insomniac episodes and went to them instead. I had walked out of my room, stumbling over discarded toys lying haphazardly across my floor, and sprinted across the hall into their open door. I found them lying there completely still, almost as if they were frozen in time. I remembered shaking them and screaming until my throat was raw, but they wouldn’t wake, and their bodies wouldn’t move.
The next night when I woke, it was the first time I dared to venture into our sitting room and look upon the antique grandfather clock. Despite its age, it was in perfect working condition, but as I stared up at its face it became clear that the minute hand wouldn’t move from it’s place on tick 59. The clock, like my parents, was frozen in time. For exactly 3600 seconds the world seemed to stop spinning. I know. I counted.
