Letters to the struggling @letterstothestruggling - Tumblr Blog

You’ve just realized something strange about the humans. They’re a race that joined the galaxy recently, but you’ve just found evidence of them already been part of it for many millennia before, but it feels like everybody’s forgotten.

elidyce

We were delighted when the people calling themselves ‘humans’ joined the spacefaring races. They were clever and agile, hot-tempered and humorous, fierce and yet friendly, a young species with much to offer us.

Most species are still delighted. But we are the Bybleotekar, the recorders of the spaceways, and we have begun to wonder. Our merry companions are… not different, but too much the same. They understand so readily, accept so quickly - most new species have trouble adjusting to dealing with aliens, to the realities of space travel, to the sheer bigness of the universe. But the humans are so adaptable, so ready for it all, they might be remembering something they’ve forgotten, not learning something new.

Some of us, the Izaslanik of the Bybleotekar, the gatherers of information for the record keepers, began encouraging humans to join us, that we might study them more closely. They like the work - they are a curious species, delighting in new knowledge, and they make able assistants. My human companion is named Mira, a young female. She is a good companion, who sings sweetly and laughs often.

When Mira struck the first blow against what I thought I knew of the universe, against illusions soon to shatter that I had thought were truth, we were attending the coronation of a lesser Netar of the Kktil, recording the customs and ceremonies and unofficially enjoying the colourful celebrations. Mira was watching the dancing, her mouth widened in a ‘smile’. “It’s so pretty,” she said, her hairless face sheened with sweat under the hot sun. “I love the turquoise jewellery.” She pointed to the bright blue stones that bedecked the dancers. “I should buy some. Our homeworld doesn’t have any turquoise, you know. Only a few pieces we brought with us when we came.”

It takes me a little while to understand what she said. It is only later, during the feasting, that I turn to her again. “You said your homeworld doesn’t have turquoise. Only… what you brought with you. Do you mean turquoise you have bought offworld, since you joined the spaceways?”

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softpluto

no hear me out. give me a second here, history major beatrice n astrophysics major ava meet completely by chance one night late in the library where they both somehow get locked in bc no one thought to check for stragglers and they end up talking all night, tucked into the back between astronomy n anthropology. ava tells beatrice about the stars, how the cosmos flows in their veins and how the study of space is just the study of themselves, the study of how to return to the place from which they came, “it’s us who gets discovered,” she says, talking of satellites and telescopes, of the mars rovers and how they’re programmed to sing songs to themselves, love against the void. and beatrice tells ava about what it is to be human, about how the one thing that remains constant throughout the many many years is kindness, about how the first hint of civilisation was that healed femur, “connection is the most important thing,” she says, talking of music and scriptures, of how stories are just a palimpsest of memories, of the longevity of olive trees, how you can stand under the branches of one and know that two hundred years ago someone else did the same, how love echoes constantly backwards and forwards. the next morning when the library is unlocked again they stumble into the closest open cafe, order the biggest coffee they’ve got, and ava has a seminar to attend and beatrice has a lecture to go to but they exchange numbers and a handshake that turns into a hug and that’s how it begins.

tiktoksthataregood-ish

stonelions

i hope you have both the time and energy to do a small thing you want to do, today 🌱🌱🌱

stonelions

if not today, then tomorrow 🌻

plain-flavoured-english

Your purpose in life is not to love yourself but to love being yourself.

If you goal is to love yourself, then your focus is directed inward toward yourself, and you end up constantly watching yourself from the outside, disconnected, trying to summon the “correct” feelings towards yourself or fashion yourself into something you can approve of.

If your goal is to love being yourself, then your focus is directed outward towards life, on living and making decisions based on what brings you pleasure and fulfillment.

Be the subject, not the object. It doesn’t matter what you think of yourself. You are experiencing life. Life is not experiencing you.

recoverr-deactivated20220605

you’re not “too broken” to be loved!!!! it’s never too late to give love and to receive it, to find people you connect with. some crappy humans may have made you feel like your heart is too heavy for anyone to hold, but you’re flawed and scared and worthy just like everybody else. you don’t have to run away from the love you deserve.

lifeafterpsychiatry

Your best is what you can do without harming your mental and physical health, not what you can accomplish when you disregard it.

thereignclub-trc

I don’t know who needs to hear this right now, but your progress is not ruined after 1 bad day, 2 bad days, maybe even a month or more of bad days. Everything you experienced and learned during that time is valuable and essential for your growth. Forgive yourself, and try again.

tiktoks-for-dead-pope

plushefemme

not to be a hedonist but. pleasure IS the whole point, my loves. we are made for pleasure. humans have not survived out of spite or sheer grit or simply to make more humans. we live for pleasure. the pleasure of licking the last delicious crumbs off your fingers and feeling sunlight on your skin and massaging a loved one's shoulders. we're made to fill our bellies with delicious food, to nap in soft grass, to touch each other in joy and comfort.

there is no shame or guilt in our bodies doing what they were made to do. and we are made for pleasure.

inkskinned

so many people overlook the genuine love of friends. how platonic relationships sometimes are more permanent. friendships like “hang on let me send you a nude i want you to tell me if this underwear looks good”. friendships like no, don’t, the peach looks literally so much better on you, you pop in peach. friendships like dump him but i understand why it’s hard for you to let go of deep relationships so i’ll be here until you do dump him and i’ll be the only one not to say “i told you so.” friendships like call me at three in the morning because of a spider, like hey saw this and thought of you but it’s a spongebob meme, like people think we’re dating and we honestly haven’t corrected them, like tell you the truth even if it’s a hard one to hear, like trust you with my life. friendships like wait i have the perfect outfit for you to wear on your date i’m driving the 45 minutes so we can play dressup and talk about flirting. like i know when to comfort you and when to distract you. like you’re kind of my favorite person but like also don’t tell anyone i said that i will deny it you’re gross and a jerk. like i know you’re sad come over i made cider and halloweentown is queued up and ready to go. like i will use your body as a shield between myself and the scary movie but i have also jumped someone for speaking badly to you. like you’ve been my rock my sword and the person who drags my drunk ass home. like that love that’s just two people who can sit in a room together with a bottle of wine in our bodies talking about how directors make poor color choices in movies. that’s love. don’t write it off because they don’t make movies around it. but that’s love.

sweet-suggestions

Sometimes "getting better" means it hurts less to get up in the morning. Means it is a bit easier to step into the shower. Means small things make you smile again. This is okay. "Getting better" doesn't have to be giant steps. I'm so proud of you, no matter what.

rickgrimesbabyface

It’s gross as fuck to tell people that no one will love them until they love themselves. Loving yourself is hard. Listen: you are loved, you are worthy of love and respect, and you can be loved even on the days when you see nothing in yourself to love.

helenasurvives

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am seven

and my reply is

pink

because i am a girl

and pink

is a princess color.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am ten

and i like

green

because a boy told me that pink

is lame and girly.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am thirteen

and i tell them

purple

it is unique and spunky

like i want to be.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am seventeen

and i just say

red

i do not say

it is bright and angry at the world

as i am

i cannot form the words to express

all of my frustrations

so i paint my lips with

rage.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am twenty

and it’s pink

i remember the joy

of being a child

i reclaim the freedom

of femininity

because i cannot remember

what my shoulders felt like

before the depression

hung from them.

i am asked about my favorite color.

i am twenty-six

and my answer is

brown

it confuses most people

they don’t see it

they may think of dirt

and dust

and dead things

but it is coffee with friends

and the chocolate chip cookies

my mom used to make.

it is my hair

and my eyes

amber and gold

in the sun

and i love myself

again

dexfiles

here is a star for everyone who’s not feeling their best today (🌟)

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Letters to the struggling