"Based on your likes" ya know, sometimes I feel like you don't know me at all, tumblr.
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"Based on your likes" ya know, sometimes I feel like you don't know me at all, tumblr.
Lmao. So I posted things for sale and a hydraulic jack was in it. This guy just wanted to know if the jack was still available but my fckery just had to get involved. #lmao #sorry #fckery #imtoomuchsometimes (at Windward Hills Subdivision, United States)
NSFW. #mood #fashun #fckery #regram #shopalphaomega
mood: screaming the unwritten lyrics at the top of my lungs
313/366
So it’s a Wednesday and I find myself in the comforts of my jammies, spending the whole day in my room surrounded by the luxuries of life - internet, books and water.
And while I’m reminded of the fact that I have homework, I try so much to utilize my time for leisure. But in the end, we all know where too much leisure/me time ends up in. So no, I didn’t get to finish my homework (which is to simply make a poem) or finish my resume for me exit interview. Instead, I spent the day finishing City of Heavenly Fire. And I shit you not, it was so hard. Difficult, even. Difficult in the sense that I just spent a MONTH (or two) fangirling over the book, losing myself to the Shadow World I just discovered now (and boy do I hate myself for it). So to cut the story short, it was with a heavy heart to finish a good series and crying over the losses and good feelings wrought by it. (That reminds me, I kind of lost the will to make those book reviews but meh no one reads my reviews not that they need to coming from me anyways with poor tastes in books) And to make my miseries worst, or to compensate for the pain, I decided to finish watching How I Met Your Mother and boy did my heart break like a motherfucker. I’ve already seen the last episode (by accident), but having to go through it all over again just makes me want to hurl myself against our subdivision’s amazing view of the great city of golden friendship. So hello two miseries in one day.
Oh wait, I forgot that today was supposed to be productive - get started with yearbook subscription, work on my resume, do my homework, get my thesis, and process my grades. But no, it all ends with me writing it down and reminiscing a day where I needed to be this lazy - even though it’ll kill me and get me fired in the near future.
(In other news, it is a sad day for my country as the Supreme Court decided yesterday for a tyrant to be buried alongside heroes. The act serves as a major slap in the faces of victims and their families - mine included. I may have not been born during the tyrant’s regime, but I’m not ignorant either to what he has done to my country.)
173/366
There comes a point in our lives where we feel just empty. Like a half-empty. Or worst, nothing. Nyet, nothing at all. You could smile for a minute, only to let the corners of your lips fall. Happy thoughts would be chased away by the stormy, gloomy, dark cloud of thoughts. You feel like life has been drained out of your system, and any form of life refuses to bloom. You’re nothing but a black hole.
It might be the period speaking (I’m an irregular, so I have to wait 2-3 months for my period, which lasts for only 4 days), thus, the hormones. I don’t know. But today had me thinking, a hecka deal of thinking – which is sort of equivalent to Armageddon in the men’s dictionary. And I like to think a lot. Yes, I know, overthinking is not good and almost unhealthy for a woman.
I’ve been showing some attitude lately, one that I’m always aware that’s existed but I ensure to bury deep within the darkest pits of my psyche. Unfortunately, it’ll always show its ugly head. So to speak of such side is a brat, a whiny brat who wants everyone’s attention on her. To my horror, I’ve realized that this side has but always been revealing its ugly head every once in a while. This had me thinking, “Wow, I pity my friends who have to endure this part of me and I’m amazed they dared to stay with me”
So the incidents that greatly transpired were of being that D.U.F.F or designated ugly fat friend. Well, maybe that’s a stretch. But I’ve become that designated ugly third-wheel friend. And honestly? Just seeing my friends with their significant others make me feel really irrelevant amongst my friends. Not that I hate their significant others, they’re cool (but will receive a major butt-whooping should they break my friend’s hearts) and I love that they make my friends happy (but I will still kick their ass), but I can’t help but feel really left out. And that sucks. I don’t want to come between them, or meddle with their affairs. Heck, I act but a consultant whenever I’m around even though it should be obvious that I have zero experiences with relationships.
And then comes the thinking. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. So much thinking. Which brought the ugly side to say ‘they only want to befriend your sorry ass because you look pathetic alone and they feel sorry for you’. And I, in turn, feel really horrible for not telling my friends any of this. Heck, I should win ‘Horrible Friend Award’ because I hate it when people start to feel sorry. I’d rather they see me as a strong, independent woman (yes, cliché and sort of niche, sue me) than a weak, needy girl. Honestly? It scares me when people catch me at my weakest. I hate that. It just opens old wounds. So there is a psychological explanation behind this, but the point is, I’ve always been that cynical-ish, pessimist/realist of a friend. And for me to change that would be weird, even for me. But I can’t help but feel really sorry for my friends for having a shitty friend like me.
And speaking of friends, I’m sad that I’ve developed this ‘i-can-tell-the-idiots-now’ or that old person phase that’s been sticking with me since I was high school. When I have friends, it’s like over time, I’ll get used to them, and then I’ll be sick of them. And it’s so sad. I think it spawned from my traumatizing childhood with my best friends (hence, why I don’t have ‘best friends’ or use the term).
Hey, I’m not a perfect friend nor am I a perfect person. That’s a given fact we all know and uphold about ourselves. But for a pessimist, I take it up a notch.
I might be overreacting though, because of hormones wrought by dreaded and wretched nightmare that is PMS. Still, I can’t help but avoid these thoughts. They’re always with me, they’re intact.
gay
pls
everything is gay
YUP