i wrote half an essay in 20mins today when it’s not even due for another 4 weeks, reblog this to have a productivity lightning bolt strike you like it did me today
Mike Driver

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@hikalynn
i wrote half an essay in 20mins today when it’s not even due for another 4 weeks, reblog this to have a productivity lightning bolt strike you like it did me today
The thing that really gets to me about PTSD is the fact that my brain experience such extreme emotions on the opposite end of the emotional spectrum at the same time or in such a short amount of time.
Like how can my brain be profoundly happy and yet in that moment snap me back to that overwhelming sense of being lost from my PTSD? Why?
Y’all. I got a wax. From the hips down, there is no hair, ya know? It’s been a hot minute since I did this. So, I gotta ask.
WHY DO GOOSEBUMPS FEEL SO CREEPY?!?
Anyway, back to work...
Y’all. My girlfriend works a 3-11p shift, but I work 8-4:30p. Usually we can text throughout our work days, but she worked a double shift last night and is sleeping.
In the last THIRTY MINUTES alone I have picked up my phone to text her at least 7 times. She will probably sleep through the text, but why risk it? The woman works hard and is exhausted and already took me out for our weekly lunch date. She just wants a nap!
We started talking about 2 months ago and have been in a relationship for about 6 weeks and she is already such a huge part of my daily life that I have trouble NOT talking to her.
I also hope her nap is a really good nap. She needs it. 💕
Have you ever loved someone so much you’d be willing to crush your own heart and hopes and dreams just so they can be happy? Fucking fuck. It HURTS.
You ever get that sinking feeling where your last bit of hope is stripped away and there is nothing left between you and that black bottomless abyss. Lol. Me either. That didn’t just happen AT ALLLL.
THE BREAKUP
Once upon a time there was a woman. She fell in love and fell hard for a handsome gent. They started forming a family of their own and new traditions, they found an adoptive family in the Queer community (as they were a queer couple). They were engaged. They were figuring life out together.
Then shit got hard. Really hard. When the woman asked her fiancé if he still wanted to be with her, he said, “I don’t know. I haven’t known for a while.” The room became almost as heavy as her heart. “Then we’re not together,” she replied.
They swore they’d be friends. They swore they were going to separate for a while to work on themselves and they would try to come back together. But when they returned to their home towns, everything change. He no longer wanted to speak to the woman in any way. She had already lost her job, her fiancé (and her two bras!) and now she had lost her best friend. She had lost everything. And when she tried to think of who she could turn to for comfort, she thought she had no friends. On her last night, when saying goodbye to her adoptive family, the people whose loyalties she believed were with the gentleman, she learned that she was loved as an individual. People came around her and gave her hugs she could feel in her soul. She didn’t know she needed a hug like that, but everyone does.
And so the woman was more sad to leave her adoptive family, but she could feel some of weight lift from her heart. Because her anxiety LIED. Those people were her family. They would always be there for her should she return- even if only for a short while. And when she sat down that night she smiled. She breathed a little easier. She felt hope- even through the tears.
Music is just wiggling air
don’t do this. don’t do this to me today.
Has anyone else ever watched enough British television that their internal dialogue now has an accent which differs from their native accent? I mean, I’m from the Midwest in the United States of America, but the voice in my head and the algorithm on my Netflix suggests otherwise.
Wanna remind y'all that Bea Arthur actually opened a homeless shelter for LGBT+ youth in NYC
This was the early 70s y’all.
BLESS THIS WOMAN
*goosebumps*
I got my heart broken and I survived, I failed 3 courses in university and graduated, I got rejected in the very first job I applied for and got promoted yesterday, I went through hard times with my family but then two years later, we laughed our hearts out over lunch, The closest friends disappointed me several times but I made new friends and loved them with all my heart. I did it once, I can do it again.
I NEEDED THIS SO BADLY
I’m color-blind, but I can pick out that [Yves Klein] blue anywhere. I wrote 30,000 words on this color, and I never grew tired of it. The pigment is staggering. It’s amazing that a color can be so emotional. One can only hope to achieve that intensity in acting.
all hail eddie redmayne, patron saint of academic bullshittery
PATRON SAINT OF ACADEMIC BULLSHITTERY!!
Beyonce scares me. She hasn't peaked. What will she do next...
I'm so sorry
In the last few days I have been trying to figure out how to express my reaction to the election. After much thought, I can sum it up to this: I'm terrified. I'm not afraid of Mr. Trump holding office- the ability of the president to act singlehandedly is limited over all. I have faith in the checks and balances of our government. Having a republican lead government is not ideal, but we could survive. Racism, Islamaphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, misogyny- they have been alive and well since the inception of this country. Rape and hate crimes are not new. But in this election cycle and in the past few days, attacks have become more open and more frequent. I have seen too many personal stories of attacks over the last few days to feel safe-attacks that are too close to home. Many are verbal threats of violence. Many are actual violence-physical and sexual assault. Most of these crimes were fueled by hate for a race or a religion; many others fueled by misogyny and, frankly, disgust for women. Now, if you know me at all, you know that very few things can make me afraid for my future or for my safety. If you know me, you know that I am loud and talkative and bold and outspoken. But today I found myself shrinking- quite literally trying to take up less space- to become inconspicuous and avoid inciting any hate or anger or violence. I'm white and middle class and educated and exceptionally polite and respectful. My privileges are written on my porcelain face and coded into my every word. But as a victim of sexual assault, as a woman who stared at that ugly emergency room ceiling while my rape kit was completed, I honestly and to my core fear for my safety when I step out the door. Even more so, I fear for my queer friends, for my friends of colors, for my female friends, for my Muslim friends, and any friends who have the burden of occupying intersections of those identities. As such, I owe you more and I am sorry. I owe it to you-and to myself- to advocate more loudly, to love more openly, to calmly, kindly, and patiently educate those who honestly do not understand why we are afraid or why the hatred, violence, and bullying are not acceptable. This post is not a commentary against Trump. This is not a commentary against those who voted for Trump. Unfortunately, these issues existed on both sides of the spectrum before Trump's candidacy. Rather post is a promise. This post is a vow to do anything and everything in my power to protect every single person I can, regardless of your race, color, religion, gender, sexual orientation, level of education, economic status, immigration or citizenship status. I will not shrink or shy away. You are loved. You are valuable.
Hands up if large groups of aggressively loud white boys in your vicinity freak you out
One of the things that bonds women, POC, and LGBTQA+ together: The fear of white men in numbers.