KIROKAZE
The Bright Sessions
Fai_Ryy
NASA
★
art blog(derogatory)
Doug Jones
Color Me Curious
EXPECTATIONS
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
shark vs the universe
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🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
occasionally subtle
tumblr dot com
hello vonnie
Cookie Run:Kingdom Official!
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Interview Vampire Daily
oozey mess
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seen from Argentina
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@myrskytuulia
Regular reminder that "humans are parasites" and "maybe we're the virus, maaan" are ecfoascist dogwhistles.
The average person won't produce nearly the same contribution to climate change in their lifetime as corporatism does in a single day.
My ideal writing conditions:
dark and stormy day
absolute vat of tea
no one needs to talk to me
catching up on new book releases and...
a paris vampire theater cult lead by the vampire ar...nault who is distracted from coven politics by his new vampire boyfriend and his sister? incredible.
The spirit of Anne Rice if you are here please move the planchette and spell out S-U-E T-H-E-M
👏👏👏
So--when I was in my mid-twenties and the Disaster Ex tried to make me kill myself, the local mental hospital didn't have any beds open in the usual ward for attempted suicides.
What they did have was a single spare bed in the small, comfortable, quiet, wildly expensive facility for girls with eating disorders.
They asked each of the young women currently living there if it was acceptable that I might occupy a bed in one of the rooms for a while, just the long weekend while I was waiting for a doctor's evaluation. I hadn't been violent, I had gone with the cops without putting up any fight at all, and I was still and I was small and all those things were sufficient for me to be deemed safe. So up they sent me, to somewhere high in Western Psych, above the smells and sounds of the denser-packed wards, above where the care workers were harried and frustrated, to a gentle space with seven or eight young women in it.
I was five foot three, and I weighed about 115 pounds. I was underweight for my frame, as a fair amount of that weight was martial arts muscle; I would probably have been ten pounds heavier if I were healthy, with the amount of activity I got.
I was at least two inches shorter than pretty much every other young woman there, six or seven inches shorter than one of them, and I had at least thirty pounds on several of them. The tallest was not allowed to walk, she had to sit in a wheelchair and be pushed around, because her condition was so advanced that the motion would undo what good her hard work had done.
And over the course of the four or five days I was there, multiple of them came up to me alone to quietly tell me that I had the *perfect* body, and they wished they could be as skinny as I was. That I needed to live, because I was beautiful, and if they were as beautiful as I was, they wouldn't need to be here.
Their eyes were on me all the time, in the hours that I wasn't sleeping. I spent a lot of time sleeping, and we took our meals separately (I not needing to be monitored while I ate, and not having my food weighed), but we spent a fair amount of time sitting around in the little shared living room space, talking about movies and magazines and books we'd loved, talking about our families. I didn't talk about my family; they didn't pry.
They were all so fucking nice.
And I could have broken any one of them over my narrow knee. They each thought they were bigger than I was.
Their brains lied to them, every time they looked at a mirror. Every time they looked down at their own thighs. What they saw was not what I could see. They had bright, beautiful eyes in dark hollows, and I could count their vertebrae, could see their ribs winging when they breathed, could see the motion of every tendon on the backs of their hands.
They weren't celebrities. They weren't being paid to have particular bodies, nor were they deep in the toxic sea of having strangers take photos of them to sell to gossip rags if they stepped out of doors in old jeans. They had families and loved ones who were doing everything that they could to protect them, to uplift them and help them be healthy. They were just everyday people--a nurse, a couple of students, a couple of recent college grads, a young woman who had decided it was time to really get help because she wanted to be a mother--and still they'd been so injured by the neverending fucking deluge of body-image bullshit that they were dying of it.
That was in 2009. Things are worse now. I think about them still. I hope that they're all right.
And in case some people aren't aware: anorexia is deadly. There is a point at which your body looses the ability to digest food and you are no longer capable of improving.
Catstronomy - Lim Heng Swee.
Joy and whimsy detected! This post is joyful and whimsical!
the amount of lawsuits these exploited children are going to be filing 20 years from now is going to be crazy and im all for it
image: cropped caption of a tiktok. "POV: you're a content creator and your kids can now sense when a sweet moment is about to become content...and immediately shut you down 😂". end ID.
good morning cruel world
Don’t you mean goodbye?
no i meant good morning. this world may be cruel but i’m still kickin’
mid-century modern edgeworth
The biggest “your experiences are not universal” thing I feel is whenever anyone talks about the universality of girls planning their weddings since childhood because. Well. Not me. God bless
“The universal girlhood experience of—“ [LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER]
“And spoke like they’d be there” 💀💀💀
Details of Albrechtsburg Meißen, Saxony.
Why do they even make apps for ADHD. You want me to use my 24/7 handheld immediate distraction device? To manage my 'gets distracted too easily' disorder? Ooooh we developed the perfect tool for managing your anemia. Its hosted in Dracula's castle. 👍
Picked up my phone to consult my task list for today and now I'm reblogging this instead, case in point
