the thing is depression was never destigmatized the narrative just switched from āno one has depression youāre just using it as an excuseā to āeveryone has depression youāre just using it as an excuseā

if i look back, i am lost
Monterey Bay Aquarium
I'd rather be in outer space šø
cherry valley forever
YOU ARE THE REASON

ē„ę„ / Permanent Vacation
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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Kiana Khansmith

PR's Tumblrdome
Sade Olutola
Acquired Stardust

Discoholic šŖ©
Peter Solarz

JBB: An Artblog!
occasionally subtle
wallacepolsom
styofa doing anything

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@thingsthaticantspeakof
the thing is depression was never destigmatized the narrative just switched from āno one has depression youāre just using it as an excuseā to āeveryone has depression youāre just using it as an excuseā
baby tomark from the MTV archives
#songwriting as a love language
MARK HOPPUS Pardon My Take (2025)
ya know, it's crazy how two-faced people can be. they'd be complimenting you and say they love you (even promise you "forever") but then you find out they've been talking shit behind your back AND lying to your face!
Feels like I'm the only real one. I always say what I feel and think openly. And if I say something I mean it! call it being naive that I didn't second guess those people ( because obviously I assumed they are just as genuine as I am towards them. surprise surprise - they were not. they are pathetic liars and I feel sorry for them).
Idk how they even live with themselves knowing they are so rotten inside, jesus christ.
Those who crossed my path and did me dirty, let me tell you this ā you can't break me. I know my worth and I know the truth about you. I also know that if we'd be judged before God himself, I won't be on the wrong side, but you will be. So go on and live with this simple fact.
BLINK-182 on TRL, 2000
I'm here to be weird and bring other people joy
A lot of people date someone who fetishizes them because they think their ability to perfectly satisfy their partners arousal and desire specifically for the dynamic they have together will be more of an incentive for them to stay loyal. They think theyāve got them under a spell and might even feel empowered and in control bc of it but they look at you like youāre a favorite toy of theirs. Everything else is in your head. Who has just 1 toy?
Tom + getting praise from Mark
Iām with you always
about fucking time
Reblog to give the prev person some dopamine.
Not many people talk about how deep emotional neglect hurts you.
Iām afraid to want things. Iām afraid to ask for help. Iām afraid to tell someone something if they seem in a bad mood. I canāt process when someone is nice to me. I canāt handle rejection, but my brain literally short circuits if someone gives me a compliment to the point where sometimes the rejection is better.
There are lots of overlap with emotional abuse, but emotional neglect hurts just as much. And itās even worse that it usually goes undetected, so a lot of people canāt tell theyāre being neglected until itās too late.
people change you and sometimes that is the worst thing in the entire world because you used to like yourself a little more but now you hate the flinch that lives in your shoulderblades and you overthink every moment and you never set a boundary without feeling internally destroyed and it fucking sucks because they shouldn't get to do that, they already ruined your life the once, it shouldn't echo into the future
but also people change you and sometimes that is the softest morning and the best surprise. realizing that you can divide things into perfect thirds without trying because you were a sibling in a group of 3 and always needed to measure out things. you learned to skip rope and step around cracks from the kid down the street. you love the way your favorite english teacher influenced your writing.
you're old enough these days to know your mother was right and you should take a coat just in case it gets cold but you are still too young to have outrun the thunderstorm of your childhood. you arrange your spoons the way you learned growing up but you've since reorganized the rest of your kitchen to make sense to you and the way that you like working. you fold your clothes actually still based on the marie kondo method (you just like the habit of it) but you allow yourself to just-loosely-chuck-some-of-it-in because really who has the fuckin' time for it.
you still can't be in the room while people look at your art (some kind of weird mix of guilt, shame, and embarrassment) but you picked up certain words and phrases from friends that help you slow down and treat yourself a little bit gentle with it. you always take other people's crafts with a reverence like praying, but you can't help that when you see your own work from a few years ago, you mirror someone else's snort of disdain. you saw other people's bodies and freckles and stretch marks and scars and you realized they are all still fucking beautiful to you, almost obscenely so, because they belong to someone you care for so deeply that it blocks out the sun - but you can't help the little flash of self-judgement whenever you pass a mirror; the voice from too-many years of 90's and 00's skinny-means-you've-won.
and it's kind of funny because you meet someone new and while they're making friends with you, you get to see these little stories playing out of them. you meet your mom and you think oh that's where they get the accent and you meet their college roommate and you think that's the same joke you both make and you meet their friend and you think ah so this is explains the oddly vast knowledge of freshwater lakes
and then one day in the mirror you reach your hand up to push back your hair and you think - oh shit, that was them. or you make a comment and you think ah, stole that from someone else. or you stand in the store and get that random flash of they would totally tell me to buy this. and it is like a little strange river to bind you to them - that over all this time and space, their hands guide your hands and your heart in silence. it is good and it is bad and is so precious and so horrible. it is both proof of love on this earth and it is also the thing that is keeping you hurt.
a little promise that is probably true: somewhere out there, your hands are ever-so-often guiding them too.
you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
It's so sweet, knowing that you love me Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet Knowing that I love you, and running my fingers through your hair It's so sweet šØäŗć«ćÆć©ć³š #nirvalan https://www.instagram.com/p/CqCJXbHrXdi/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=