#pointless words

[angeltelekinesisel]

Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speach you will ever regret.

[hlsailer]

You know what sucks? 

When you’ve got so much understanding of something. SO MUCH KNOWLEDGE ABOUT A PAIN, A STRUGGLE, A SYMPTOM OF A PROBLEM, you’ve got so much experience with dealing, and with healing, and yet, you can't share it with those who need it.

Why?

Because you’re nobody.

People don't care what you have to say.

Because you're nobody.

Like, dammit, if that’s not the most frustrating thing.

You’ve got all this knowledge, all this power, all this useful information, and it just sits. Like it’s in a stupid fucking underwear drawer, or like it’s supposed to be hidden away like some ancient gem of power. And it’s not. You know it’s not supposed to be that way. You know this stuff needs to be shared, needs to be aired, that people need to see that there’s something better at the end. But you can't speak what you want to speak, and you can't say what you want to say because it doesn't matter.

Because you’re nobody. 

You’re not famous. You’re not successful (whatever the hell that means). You don’t have a fancy car, you don't have a family of your own, you don't have a house in your name. Who’re you to say that things get better? Who are you to speak to issues? Who are you to say what’s what? Am I right?

I am right.

I know stuff, and I see stuff, and I understand a plethora of god-awful, stupid things that should never happen in this world. That shouldn't even exist. That shouldn't be commonplace.

But they are.

And I know about them.

And I understand them.

And I've gotten through them.

But the problem still remains.

I'm still nobody. 

So, what can I do?

Well, personally, I like to write about them. Oh, like hell I do. I make all kinds of metaphors, think up all kinds of scenarios, do all sorts of things to get people to understand what I know, what they can know, and how to help. I do. And, maybe it’s wrong of me. Selfish of me. To think that I, a nobody, could ever conceive of a way to get through something so dark. Something so painful. Something that can be so debilitating. Regardless, I think anyway. And I write anyway. And, maybe--holy hell, just maybe--in a few years, this post will come to light. People will see it and go “I can't believe she ever thought that, that she ever considered herself a nobody”. Or maybe not. Maybe this post will reach no one. It’s probably just a shout into a void of cyberspace. It’ll get sucked up and swallowed by the black hole of social media. It’ll disappear. Pass like the millionth breath you’ve taken today. Or the third blink you’ve taken in the past twenty seconds. And if it does pass like that, I'm okay with that.

Because I already said it, didn't I?

No one will listen to what I have to say.

Because I'm nobody.

But, of all the things I've learned, I have this knowledge. 

This one comfort:

They might listen to what I do.

Today, I got a fortune cookie.

It said something stupid about following up words with action.

And it was right.

Holy hell, for once in my life, a fortune cookie was right.

Wow.

I couldn't believe it.

It’s so easy to say something. To think words and push them out of your mouth. To put them on a document. To post them to a stupid website that’ll probably fall out of popularity in ten or twenty years. 

But you know what’s hard?

Action.

Taking time out of your day to do something.

To show them that there is a difference in this world. To show them that there is something better. 

And that something better can be you.

And it can be me.

And it should be all of us.

But it’s not.

You can’t control what others do. Can't dictate how they think, or why. We’re all just people made up of experiences, you know? We all base our opinions, our whole lives, on what we’ve experienced. On what we, as individuals, know. 

And, you know what? 

Not all of us are going to agree.

That’s just life.

And, really:

It’s okay.

We’ve all had different experiences. All of us have led different lives. Which means we’ve all come to different conclusions. One thing that makes you feel safer might terrify the next person. And the thing that makes you feel at peace might completely shake someone else’s foundation. That’s just how it goes. That’s how life is.

But there’s one thing that we can all agree on. 

One thing that we can all understand.

Kindness.

Small kindnesses. Big kindnesses. Kindnesses that cost money, and those that cost us our time. The ones that seem stupid to us. The ones that seem significant to us. All kindness is welcome. All kindness is needed. The kindness you bring to the table is different from mine. We’re different people.

And that’s okay.

As long as we’re not forgetting to be kind.

I’ve written so many words. So many that I've already said don't matter. And if they don't matter, why am I writing them?

Hell if I know.

I don't even really understand it myself.

If this is so pointless, why do it?

Right?

And the only thing I can say is: 

It might be pointless. Very pointless. I might never receive a note on this post, might never hear about it again. This thing might get pushed out into the outer orbits of cyberspace, never to be seen again.

But at least I said it.

And it might not mean anything right now, but it will mean something later.

It might mean nothing to that person over there.

But it might mean something to you.

And that’s why I'm writing.

On that off-chance that you see it.

On the off-chance that you need it.

That’s why I’m writing.

I’m sorry people suck. I’m sorry that there’s pain out here. Sorry that we all experience it. Sorry that we aren't aware of what we do to each other. Of how we break or make each other, every day, with all of our little, and big, actions.

So I promise to be kinder.

I promise to try harder.

I promise.

For my sake.

And for yours.

I want to do better. I want to be better. 

I want more kindness in this world. 

My words mean nothing here. They probably always will mean nothing in this space. In this place that can only be words.

So instead, I'll make my words reality.

I’ll fight for kindness.

I won't give up on making things better.

Even when they’re dark, I won't give up.

I won't.

Because it’s worth it.

I won't give up on kindness.

[b0wiebabe]

The hardest part is letting go. Moving so far away from the one thing that I strive for. Although we don't speak much anymore I am still hanging by that thin thread of hope that maybe every spark and chill I feel throughout my body when I think about you really does mean something after all. I'm scared to leave and we got lost. That our paths will go separate ways for good. There will nothing left but memories and what if's. the though of you being completely out of my drives me insane like an itch in my brain I can't scratch and holy fuck I would stay here for the rest of my life if you asked me to. I don't know why but I would wait to the ends of the earth to hold your hand. I can't leave not knowing how you truly feel not knowing if there's a chance not knowing what could ever happen. I hate that I'm still holding my life back but fuck i would do it forever just for your light and pontention to fucking shine through. It scares me to know that it doesn't phase you that I'm leaving. Maybe I'm just holding on to something that's been dead for a long time. I think I'm insane for thinking I still feel like stars are colliding in my chest when I hear your name. Every kiss always felt like the first. Every look gave me butterflies. Just a simple compliment made me red for an hour. Your geniuene personality, how caring you are deep down under that bad boy front that I have always swooned over. How much you loved me how good you made me feel. You taught me to love myself. You taught me how to love others. You're my best friend. My soulmate. The love of my life. 1800 miles apart and I'd still choose you over anyone.

[b-ee-p]

i finally found the color combination for my room and im excited

[two-hearts]

My icon is so cute it's warming my heart. I love Even. Skam is the only thing that's making me feel something other than pain right now.

[wolfenshire]

I hate that mental health is not seen as a reason to call out of work. Like, if I have a headcold, I can call out of work and be totally fine. But as soon as I reach a depression slump, I feel wrong about calling out. I know in my heart of hearts that going to work will only make it worse, yet I still feel this nasty guilt about taking off for the sake of my mental stability.