My language is changing. I don’t understand it. I read all those books and then I find these words just coming out of my mouth. I don’t even know where they come from.
i made a makeup tutorial for all my fellow feminists out there bye
this video speaks to me on a spiritual level
So I just saw Byzantium… I can only describe it as batshit insane.
I just saw Byzantium too. (Guess who I went with?)
I can only describe it as really, really bad.
I’m a Christian, and even I can recognize how ridiculous it is for people to oppose gay marriage based on the grounds that “The Bible defines marriage as one man and one woman.” That’s simply not true.
If these are barbaric and no longer acceptable practices, then I think we can say that prejudice against queer people is also barbaric and no longer acceptable.
It’s taboo to admit that you’re lonely. You can make jokes about it, of course. You can tell people that you spend most of your time with Netflix or that you haven’t left the house today and you might not even go outside tomorrow. Ha ha, funny. But rarely do you ever tell people about the true depths of your loneliness, about how you feel more and more alienated from your friends each passing day and you’re not sure how to fix it. It seems like everyone is just better at living than you are.
A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.
Your mother, your father, your grandparents: they all look at you like you’re some prized jewel and they tell you over and over again just how lucky you are to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” your father tells you wearily.
You wish they’d stop saying these things to you because all it does is fill you with guilt and panic. All it does is remind you of how much you’re not taking advantage of your youth.
You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later.
Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage.
Stop thinking that everyone is having more sex than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything.
I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it.
You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of shit doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it.
Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today?
We shall see.
If a report of mugging was treated like a report of rape.
If you want to help us, please don’t come to the World Cup, or the Olympics.
Please don’t come to Brazil.
I will not go to Brazil
not sure if this website glorifies social anxiety and self loathing or everyone has reached rock bottom and dark humor is merely a bitter form of comfort
Joan Crawford in Possessed (1931)
82 years later and it’s still relevant
Baby thinks she can eat food from the magazine
Share a Coke with Sherlock
“Share a coke with Sherlock” is some pretty unfortunate phrasing given what we know about the guy’s drug habits.
So did he.