You've Got To Be 8 @fealesidhe - Tumblr Blog

Calling a canon bisexual woman a lesbian becuase she has a female love interest or is in a wlw relationship is bisexual erasure and biphobic!!!!

pipis-envy

Same thing goes for bisexual men and mlm relationships!!!!!

pipis-envy

REBLOG THIS VERSION TOO YOU COWARDS

toenail-soup-deactivated2020091

Same thing for bisexual people in m/f relationships that people call straight.

ultimatebottom69

Now reblog this cowards

theperksofbeingaperk

jinxfmrl

https://archive.org/details/DontBeaS1947

Here’s the whole video. It’s called “Don’t Be A Sucker” and it’s 17 minutes long.

republicansareahategroup

don’t just scroll past this actually watch it, it’s only 2 minutes long. If you re-recorded this today word for word with modern actors and places, it wouldn’t even look out of place as a PSA

memescomedy

bbblackcats

if you’re gonna go out and drink every night, maybe don’t complain about not having money for rent. and if you’re desperate for work hours to fund your drinking *and* cover rent, maybe stop calling out ‘sick’ every time you’re mad at the manager

just a thought?

also, you know, you wouldn’t be fucking over every one of your coworkers every time you do that. we’re understaffed enough as it is, we don’t need your baby butt adding to it

#why do i only come here to rant #lol

goodbyeeveryonee-deactivated202

2019 is about doing everything you find scary so that the universe can stop giving you repetitive lessons and elevate you to another level. Rebirth is in the air.

It feels a bit like I’ve been swimming in an ocean my whole life, and sometimes the waves got a little rougher but it was fine. I like to challenge myself, and I know I can handle it. But then the waves got a little too rough, the current beneath me draining my strength away. So I call out, “Hey, I’m kinda having a hard time over here, any help?” From afar, where the others are, it doesn’t look much worse perhaps, so they say “Oh, you’ve got this! I know you do!” Or they say, “Ah yes, it is really rough in some patches! But it gets better, I mean I just had this really strong undertow but I kicked a bit harder and now it’s like a lagoon!” Or, if the person is really nice, they might say “Well, didn’t you want a challenge? You’re the one who swam out there, don’t be so surprised!”

So I buckle down and I keep kicking. I’ve had waves go over my head, my chest feels tight, my legs are burning, and I really really just need a pool floaty for a few minutes, just so I can catch my breath. But now people have seen me do this for so long, that they don’t even seem surprised anymore. If anything, they see me as this champion swimmer, someone who surely can battle any wave. And when they tell me this, I feel a strange sort of pride. Pride in the pain, in the struggle, in the lack of a break. But I also have this creeping exhaustion, and I wonder how much longer I can keep being this star. And if I stop, how will it make me feel to no longer be the one out there battling through tough times? Will I be relieved? Or will I feel like I’ve given up?

All this time there’s grabbing hands under the waves, sometimes just lightly brushing legs, sometimes grabbing ankles and tugging. And we all talk about it, a little bit, but it’s mostly joking. When we’ve faced stronger grips, been pulled under even, it’s not out loud that we confess. It’s in whispers to one another, clinging tearfully in fear of other hands. Or, for some of us, pretending it never happened, telling no one. Because, in the end, telling isn’t going to make it not have happened. And trying to tell people often ends with dismissal (”Oh, come one, that wasn’t a real tug, just a brief grip! Surely it wasn’t that bad”), accusation (”You’re the one who was swimming alone in the first place, you should’ve known better!”), or empty sympathy (”That sucks man, sorry to hear you got tugged down! Man, those hands suck don’t they?”).

It’d be a lot easier to swim if it felt like there was a sandbar nearby to catch my breath on. And it’d be a lot easier to brave company if I didn’t have the memories of those hands around my ankles, dragging me down without a sound because I let myself trust to isolation. It’s hard to trust others to help you swim when you’ve seen the face of the hands dragging you down, and it’s the face of the one who claimed to love you. And then the face of another who claimed to love you. And when you’ve been dragged down by several, and abandoned by others for your shaken trust, it seems pointless to keep trying to trust.

After all, I’ve made it this far swimming alone. It’s not often fun, and it’s kinda lonely, but it still beats being abandoned, beats being told that your depression makes a relationship unsustainable long-term. And it’s better than being degraded and abused for months in front of an entire house of people who claim to be your friends, without anyone stepping in to stop it.

I know this is really sappy and emo. I don’t think I care, not right now. Between school and work, I’ve been working at least 50 hours a week for 2 years, if not more. Even since graduation, that hasn’t stopped. In fact, I now work 55-60 hours a week between 2 jobs. I’m also solely in charge of unpacking & cleaning an entire house, coordinating all bills for two apartments, and dealing with very high-stress work drama involving harassment, a growing fear culture, and lack of support from management. I’ve been struggling with my own mental health for years, sometimes doing well, sometimes thinking I’ll need to check myself into an in-patient facility. I have trauma from 2 severely emotionally and mentally abusive relationships that I’ve never been able to work through either on my own or in therapy, as well as trauma from the assault(s?) that they inflicted on me. And on top of all that, I still have to deal with the daily tasks. Hygiene, eating, drinking water, waking up on time and not being late for work, paying all the bills on time, balancing money issues, being there for my friends who are also struggling with life, money, heartache, mental health, and abuse. Keeping in touch with my friends and my family, not letting these important relationships fall by the wayside even when I can barely breathe. It doesn’t look like a lot on paper, but when I have people ask me what my hobbies are, what I do in my free time, and I realize that I have nothing to give them other than “oh, I listen to music while I get stuff done!” I think maybe, just maybe, it’s more than it seems.

I’ve told people about the abuse, a little. For one of the relationships, the longest one, several of y’all even know the guy and saw (some) of it. But I’ve kept a lot to myself, and I’ve never really opened up about the worst parts. For example, did you know that the abuse got so bad with that longest relationship that I learned not to show my emotions? That I learned how to control my tears so well that I can’t even cry when I’m alone now? That’s ok, I don’t need to make other people live through it second-hand. But it gets a bit much in my head sometimes, and to be honest I’m not always doing great. I know I need therapy, but I also have a lot in the way of that. Cost is not bad, I do have health insurance. But I have no time. And, having been aggressively chased around campus by one therapist and having my long-term one not even notice the abuse I was going through... I don’t have a lot of faith or trust in therapists. I am going to try again, someday. Just... maybe not right now.

I know I’m rambling, and hardly anyone, if anyone, is going to read this. That’s fine. It’s probably for the best. I don’t want anyone jumping to any conclusions or rushing to offer me a 5-second shoulder to cry on when I can’t even cry. I just needed to, I don’t know, get my thoughts out of my head. And maybe I’m hoping that my friends will read this. Not so that they’ll feel bad, not so that they’ll offer me comfort when I don’t ask for it, but so that they’ll just understand.

#tw: abuse #tw: assault #holy crap this is long #lol #just blabbing

grimimelody-deactivated20260531

“If it’s about a dad dating other dads, how come some of them have kids???”

daggers-drawn

trans-corvo

k-rbie-blog

everyone stop reblogging the chains that don’t include the trans flag challenge

anemonequeen-moved

willowofthehearth

Image: Twitter post by ‘la sirena’ (@venusin12th)

Text:

I don’t know who needed to hear this but you should start to write/draw/paint/sing/dance again

gahdamnpunk

People really think it’s an easy process. It’s hella expensive too

geardrops

here’s a handy chart if you don’t know how hard this process is

fierceawakening

This process is *absolutely* long and arduous, even when the person did nothing remotely “suspicious” or odd.

Born citizens usually don’t know that.

I sure didn’t until I met some people going through it.

chihiro-against-nasties

It took my dad over 25 years to get legalized. He came here illegally at 23 and he got legalized two years ago at 50 years old. He was fighting tooth and nail to become a citizen for all that time. Some of you fucking gringos need to educate yourself on how fucking hard it is to just exist in this country if you weren’t born here.

missivesfromghosts-deactivated2

My parents and I didn’t get naturalized until 17 years after coming to the U.S. and we were on the *fast track*. It’s not fucking easy and it’s never fast.

sashamutch

So I found the “All I want for Christmas is You” Sans and Papyrus cover and god damn it I’m just complete Undertale trash now, haha. Fan art for Friday.

stelyos

Hi! I was the Sans from that cover, thank you so much for this awesome fanart, I love your dynamic drawing style!

scratchingpad

dustily-archive-deactivated2015

this changed my life

thestateofyourheart-deactivated

I spent 10 minutes mentally preparing myself for this video and I still wasn’t ready.

I don't really know how to relate well to other people. It's like there's a wall in my brain, cognitively and emotionally, where I can imagine but never really understand. And I feel like no one ever really understands me, like if I just take a step back that they will let go, every time. Really, that's been proven correct more times than I can count. It makes me feel more like a ghost than a person, someone who isn't quite here for anything permanent but is here enough for the responsibilities and the pain.

I feel lonely but no one can ever seem to address it. Their attentions are all wrong, too much attention or too little, too much joking or not enough, too affectionate or too distant. I feel picky but I can't seem to adjust. I'm too loud or I'm too quiet. I babble when I'm stressed and tired and lonely but it just makes people take a step back. So I hush myself but they never step forward again.

I flip-flop between extremes: loud, animated, effusive, and anxious; quiet, slow, withdrawn, and depressed; silent, calm, analytic, and uninterested; cheery, emotional, and engaged; wanting sex, afraid of it, wanting touch, hating it, unaffected by the world, overwhelmed by every bit of stimulation.

I just want to curl up in bed, feel arms around me and a soft kiss on my head and a truthful promise that I will never be alone, that I will never be too much and that I am loved regardless of my internal state and ability to react appropriately to events. A purpose and someone who calls for me to come home.

I think it's bull that we all have to fix our own 'problems', to become averagely perfect. There's some things that can't really be ‘fixed’, that are part of our own individual personalities and experiences. I have a hard time saying no directly; rather than expecting me to 'get good' at that, maybe learn to read my ambivalence for what it really is. I don't always like physical contact; rather than expecting me to tell you straight up, learn to ask before smothering, and learn to hear "i'm not in a cuddling mood" as "please stop touching me". I'm not good at communicating emotions and setting boundaries, but it shouldn't be entirely up to me in a relationship of any type. It's on me to try, but it's also on you to observe and not just assume. I’m not fucking perfect and I never will be.

It's exhausting to be constantly performing, you know. How can I ever be truly comfortable with someone who expects me to perform around them?

Imaginary realities and such

Do you ever feel like something's missing? A lover, a sibling, a friend? Like if you just turn your head, in some other universe or timeline, they'd be there beside you? Like if you could just wake up, you could call out to them?

I had a dream this morning that my parents had separated and my mom was marrying someone else. I never felt so relieved to wake up and know that that was not reality. Sometimes I think that I could be dreaming still, that this deep-seated anxiety is simply my unconscious mind knowing that there really is something missing and if I could just wake up....

So I go about my day, I turn to look at the passenger's seat or I scroll through my contacts, I turn at night in my bed and stare at my pillow.

But no one is there.

I hold conversations in my head with imaginary characters, lovers and friends and family that live in other worlds and other realities that I daydream about waking up to. I spend hours and weeks and months playing and replaying scenarios that might happen, movie nights and dates and snowball fights, adventures and grief and comfort that I'll never quite experience.

Sometimes I'll dream about these things in my sleep, and it's always just a little sad to wake and know that that reality was not the one I'm actually in. I wander through my life waiting for the magic to pop out that will change my world into the one I see in my mind, a portal to take me away where I can feel happy and purposeful. I look at the door and wait for that person to walk in.

But no one does. And as I grow older, I come to accept that no one ever will.

#rambling