im permanently emotionally damaged but it’s chill, I’m chill
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Not today Justin
Acquired Stardust
sheepfilms
occasionally subtle

Kaledo Art

@theartofmadeline
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Show & Tell

Love Begins
Cosmic Funnies

tannertan36
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Peter Solarz

Kiana Khansmith
todays bird

shark vs the universe
Sade Olutola
RMH

ellievsbear
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@panicatthediddles
im permanently emotionally damaged but it’s chill, I’m chill
pups first trip to the beach
Class discussions are fun until u find out ur classmates are racists
i use ‘!!’ a lot, but it’s honestly like a quiet ‘!!’
obama’s wife was disrespected, his daughters were disrespected, HE was disrespected but he never resorted to acting like 5 year old on social media and to the press
suicide baiting for sexual favors is probably the grossest shit predators do, and while i think as a 26 year old i have no place reblogging this call out and shit, id just like all my minor followers or just anyone to know that when someone does that to you, they are doing evil. that’s what theyre doing. it doesnt matter how sad they are. they’re doing evil.
Threatening suicide is a classic abuse tactic used to frighten compassionate people into staying at an abuser’s side or otherwise capitulating to an abuser’s demands. I’ve seen it used on my friends and it’s terrifying knowing how frightened they are for a person who could be driving them to death themselves.
Since it’s to help people…what exactly do you do in a situation like this? I remember thinking “if I hang up this kid dies” when I got gaslighted and that felt like such a big risk to take. I was wrong Very wrong. But I mean…other options?
It’s hard. But try to remind yourself over and over and over that your abuser’s behavior is entirely their choice. You are not responsible for their behavior. They decide their own action. They are very very good at making you feel like their behavior is your fault, but that is not true.
The same way it’s abusive bullshit for someone to say “you made me hurt you” it’s also abusive bullshit for someone to say “you made me hurt them” or “you made me hurt myself.” Threatening violence to get you to comply, whether that violence is directed towards you, bystanders, or themselves, is fundamentally abusive.
You have every right to hang up/leave in those situations. The illusion is that your choice is [Stay OR They Die] but that isn’t a real choice, that’s an abusive magic trick. Your choice is [Stay OR Leave] and their choice is [Hurt Myself OR Take Care of Myself] and you are not responsible for their choices.
You are accountable for your own behavior, not theirs. No matter what your abuser does, no matter how convincingly they blame you, their violent actions are not your fault.
me to me: wow, you've got issues, pal
This video is so wild. Wow.
This went aaaallll the way left.
😳😳😳😳😳😳😳
Woooaahhhh I was not expecting that.
holy fuck
my whole body seized up
it took me a long time to stop crying
The fuck just happened? I got chills!
What the hell, that escalated so quickly…
That’s why it’s such an effective ad.
random snaps of my last house. In the mountains of Tennessee…
www.benjyrussell.net
since it’s a scary time to be trans: refuge restrooms is an app which maps gender-neutral/single-stall restrooms. it’s community-mapped, so it’s possible you might be the first person to log the restroom locations, but hopefully it’ll help some people.
please reblog this post if you’ve got trans followers. stay safe.
It’s not a hand towel. On my world, it means hope.
Save us towel cat you’re our only hope
there was the threat of “the one.” the one who was really ours. the infinitely perfect match, who completed your puzzle in a way that only fate could have intended. the happy ending. the soul mate. we tell our children to hold on to their hearts. we mix our messages, stir the pot, tell them that, like love, sex is only pure if it’s with our “one.” that regret treads in the shadows of young love. that if we gave up our bodies and souls to someone, we’d only end up numb. we were raised as a generation who could care less. who invented games to pretend we weren’t feeling something. who hid ourselves from how much it hurt. whoever cared least, won. we didn’t text back, we dressed as if we hadn’t planned this outfit. love is for movies, for the one; our lives were trial periods. we were raised as a generation who couldn’t care more. who bled ourselves dry for the wrong person because we were so obsessed with making someone stick to us that we couldn’t let them out of our lives even if they were intent on running. we slammed the door on the people who were toxic to us only to open it again, bawling. we carefully mapped asking her out, only for our tongues to falter at the last minute. we loved loudly, in public; we love wild. we couldn’t balance it. we ruin perfect relationships on some magical idea that the real “one” would have some kind of universal indicator of our match. we saw flaws where there didn’t need to be any, for no other reason than because we were worried. what if he seems perfect but six years down the road while we’re married, you find the “one” who happens to be your best friend from grade school. what if she cheats. what if you’re both just caught up in illusion. we couldn’t balance it. we’d stay in the worst of situations because of illogical reasons. we’d given him our virginity, we couldn’t leave. she was what your parents wanted, even though she was mean. the course of true love never did run smooth, we’d whisper. we’d picture our future selves married to them and our stomachs would drop. but we’d hold on. we needed to prove ourselves. that our love wasn’t wrong. “when you find the one, you’ll know,” but you don’t. the average person falls in love eight times before they find someone. eight little loves that are all bone-deep. that all are people we wish we could keep. that feel real and feel clean. the right one is the one you make work. it’s the person who finishes you but also finishes the dishes. who talks about the small things instead of letting fate decide them. who knows that they’re not perfect and neither are you. who might not have been your childhood best friend, but sure knows you better than anyone. true love poisoned us. we search for something that’s been marketed as the only real love. but love isn’t the kiss to wake us up. love isn’t happily ever after, running from the “wrong marriage” to kiss our rediscovered ex-boyfriend. true love doesn’t come with signs and fairy godmothers and instantly liking each other’s favorite candies. true love is the kiss that wakes us up so we can get ready, even though he could sleep in. it’s little things. it’s doing the laundry even though it’s her turn. it’s gently talking about the other person’s demons until both of you are raw, but healing. it’s buying her the box of junior mints even though you never liked them. the “one” is a myth. it only means, “the one who works to make sure you two fit.”
Soulmate(??) // r.i.d (via inkskinned)
Me: *successfully avoids social event* nice
Me: *is really lonely* shit