me: protect the bees!!!
bee: [comes near me]
me:
Today's Document
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Sade Olutola

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Noah Kahan

Origami Around

if i look back, i am lost
Stranger Things

pixel skylines

★
The Stonewall Inn
Show & Tell
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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oozey mess

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@lifeeeeofpablo
me: protect the bees!!!
bee: [comes near me]
me:
Sending a long meaningful message and getting a one word reply
sometime you’re naked…. sometimes you’re not. depends
I love….. adding unnecessary e’s to words like spicey or babey. ……. it makes the words pop
Unnecessary, redundant, sloppy, visually displeasing, and a sign of not understanding the English language. But yeah, they “pop” I guess. Just like my assumption that you arent average.
oooo!!! buzzkill syndrome, i see. a true example, what a case study.
someone is angery!!!
what a bitche
we’ve started feeding this tortoiseshell-point siamese recently. she’s beautiful, aside from the fact she has disturbingly big, bulging blue eyes. we’ve started calling her… ‘goop’
it’s goop!
GUESS WHO HAD GOOPLETS! SIX ENTIRE BABIES! mama goop held onto her gooplings for an entire week longer than she had to, so the gooplitos came out very well done and fluffy!!
LIL GOOPS
Picture this: it’s 2007, you’re on your family computer on stardoll.com listening to Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne on repeat. Your ringtone is I Kissed a Girl by Katy Perry. You somehow don’t realize you’re not straight.
it’s time we start oppressing ppl that use the word “hubby”
sorry but “Hubble Space Telescope” takes too long to say
Emptiness
Emptiness: the state of containing nothing.
I feel lost. I feel used. I feel numb. I feel ugly. I feel fat. I feel confused. I feel angry. I feel vulnerable. I feel unwanted. I feel unlovable. I feel everything. I feel nothing. I feel empty.
I always believe people when they say they won’t hurt me. I’m always so gullible There’s a void the size of space inside my chest right now. Will it ever be full? Will I ever be whole again? I believe I won’t. It’s easier to accept this fate than to believe and hope that I’ll be happy and full again. Because chances are, I’m just going to be hurt and let down again. Nonetheless, I have a plan. It may not be a solid plan, but I have a plan.
I’m going to eat my feelings. I always feel pain so if I eat that pain away, eventually I’ll get fatter. When I get fatter, people will want nothing to do with me. Society deems fat people as “disgusting” and “unlovable” that’s what I want to be. I want my body to be a fortress, to keep everyone out. To keep all the pain out. Then, I’ll no longer be able to be hurt; I’ll no longer feel pain. I don’t even feel like pain is the correct word to describe how I feel. I think agony is a better word. I’m in agony. Will I ever not be? Probably not. “I don’t do fear very well. I try to push the people I love away. I worry that I’m not allowed human weakness, that makes me not good enough.” -Roxanne Gay
People use me. People tell me one thing and do another. The complete opposite in fact. They tell me their different. They tell me they’ll never leave me. They tell me they can make me happy. They tell me they’ll always be there. But it’s bullshit, It’s ALL bullshit. Most of the time I hear this from men. I hear this from them because I always trust them so easily. The reason being because I have this weird attachment issue to men. I never got the attention I needed/wanted from my father growing up so if any type of male specimen shows me the slightest bit of attention, I hold onto it. I hold onto it so hard and so tight, it digs a hole in my hand. And then I feel pain.
I’ve been hurt and left by numerous amounts of men but for some reason, I never learn. I never learn to not open up so easily and be so vulnerable. People feed off of vulnerability. They smell it and chase after it like a pack of wolves chasing their meal. It sucks that people are like this. Why are people like this? For the past 6 days now, I’ve been having panic attacks. I’ve been crying nonstop and I’m tired. It’s draining, I’m drained. I wish I could turn off my humanity; life would be so much easier to not feel anything. On top of my anxiety and depression, I’ve now been diagnosed with mood swings and “bipolar disorder tendencies” I knew it was going to catch up to me at some point, it’s hereditary. My father has it, my brother has it, and now I have it. If I ever have kids, I hope I don’t pass this disease onto them. It’s awful. I can’t say much about my father, but I can say that he has some strong (yet shitty) genes. Happiness: the stare of being happy. AKA, something I’ll never be. I’ll never see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’ll forever be in the darkness of the abyss. I’ll forever be in the void.
Anonymus Letter
No name,
I’m never going to send this to you, you’ll never see it. But I’m hurting so much right now because of you and I need to vent.
Congratulations no name, you did it, you actually fucking did it! You managed to actually tear me down and bring to my absolute worst. You brought me to rock bottom.
The first time I remember seeing you was in the library for our PA library session. I was walking out and you gave me an awkward fist bump. I didn’t think much of it, I never remembered seeing you after that. I never remembered seeing you before that. The next time I would see you would be at least a month or so later and i’ll forever wish to go back in time and unmeet you because this pain I’m feeling right now is excruciating. The next time I saw you, (and this is the moment that changed me forever) was in Malibu again, for PA for the Trio band performance. I was walking into class, kind of ruining late. You were walking towards me probably to go to the bathroom or something. You said to me “my stuff is right there” and pointed in the direction of your backpack. I was confused as to why you were telling me this but stupidly sat next to you anyways. The entirety of the class, you were talking to me and distracting me. You kept taking pictures of me on Snapchat and sending them to your friend. I didn’t think much of it. You were harmless to me then.
We hung out the following morning due to my request. We got breakfast together, the biggest mistake of my life. During breakfast you were flirting with me and telling me how beautiful you thought I was and how much you wanted to be with me. (Despite you knowing I had a boyfriend.) I brushed you off because I had a boyfriend, I was happy with him. You walked me to my class, and even stayed for about 15 minutes. I thought you were weird and odd, but you made me laugh. I didn’t think you could hurt me as much as you did. But I was very wrong. The weekend came and we didn’t really talk but I didn’t really mind. Sunday night came along and you wanted to hangout but I got back to campus late. We started hanging out more and more. We eventually introduced each other to our friends. My friends liked you and vice versa everything was fine. We stayed up about 3 nights in a row until 4AM, you drove me to Santa Barbara to get a friend at 3AM. You bought me flowers, sunflowers; my favorite flowers. I started to get comfortable with you. I started to crave your attention because my boyfriend wasn’t there. I regret craving your attention. I regret wanting you. I regret meeting you. You told me all the right things. You told me you were different from other guys, you told me how happy you would make me, you told me how great we would be together. You were the wrong guy that came at the perfect time. You came during a time where I was at my most vulnerable. You used me. You manipulated me. I told you my secrets and you told me yours. For some reason, I really believed you when you told me you were different. I was so desperate for male attention that I was too stupid and blind to see how much of a liar you were. You just wanted one thing from me and unfortunately, you got it.
I hate myself for loving how great the sex was. I hate myself for ever liking you. I hate myself for trusting you. I told you how I’d been hurt before and you assured me time and time again that you’d never hurt me; that you’d never leave me. But you did. You hurt me the most. You’ve left me empty. You’ve left me nothing. You ended things with me though we were never anything to end which is why I don’t understand why I’m so hurt. I don’t understand why I feel so much pain. But you’ve managed to rip everything out of me. I’ve been distraught ever since because of you and you probably don’t even care. You used me for sex and once you got enough of it, you tossed me aside like I was nothing. Like a used condom. Like a piece of gum dried, blackened, and stuck to the pavement. You treated me like I meant nothing to you despite all the times you told me how important I was to you. I don’t blame it all on you though. It’s my fault too. I should’ve never trusted you. The only man that’s yet to disappoint me is still for some reason by my side even though I’ve hurt him time and time again. I hurt him by being with you. He tried to warn me about you but I didn’t listen. I should’ve listened. You’re an awful shitty person. Nonetheless however, I wish you nothing but happiness. I hope you never have to experience the pain you’ve caused me, it’s unbearable. I feel like shit. I feel like nothing. I feel disgusting. I feel gross. I feel ugly. I feel used. I feel empty. And it’s because of you, it all because of you.
Tampons are a “luxury item”
Once I worked as an intern in the state capital. One of the representatives I worked for was this middle-aged guy. And he hated the tampon and napkin machines in the women’s bathrooms. Hated them. He insisted that they weren’t necessary.
I found out why after I’d been working there, oh, about a month. My period started suddenly, as it sometimes does, and I asked to excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room. He wanted to know why. I told him.
He started ranting about how lazy women were. How we wasted time. How we were so careless and unhygenic, and that there was no call for that. He finished by telling me that I certainly was NOT going to the ladies’ room and that I was just going to sit there and work. He finished this off with a decisive nod, as if I’d just been told and there could be no possible argument.
“If I don’t go,” I said in an overly patient tone, “the blood is going to soak through my pants, stain my new skirt that I just bought, and possibly get on this chair I’m sitting in. I need something to soak up the blood. That’s why I need to go to the bathroom.”
His face turned oatmeal-gray; an expression of pure horror spread across his face. He leaned forward and whispered, “Wait, you mean that if you don’t go, you’ll just keep on bleeding? I thought that women could turn it off any time that they wanted!”
I thought, You have got to be kidding.
Several horrified whispers later, I learned that he wasn’t. He actually thought a) that women could shut down the menstrual cycle at will, b) that we essentially picked a week per month to spend more time in the bathroom, i.e. to goof off, and c) that napkins and tampons were sex toys paid for by Health and Human Services. I didn’t know the term then, but he believed that tampons were dildos. Which was why he and a good number of his friends considered them luxuries.
And that’s how, at twenty, I had to give a talk on menstruation to a middle-aged married state representative who was one of my bosses. American politics, ladies and gentlemen.
That’s.., that’s insane.
what the fuck did i just read
“[Vanessa Jackson] admitted to police that she intentionally set him on fire because shooting him would have been ‘too nice’.”
a true american hero
I HATE THIS FUCKING VIDEO
@imaginaryrichnigga