*whispers*… support all ace people.
All of them. Everyone of the goddamned spectrum. Most of us spent too long feeling very broken or confused to later get told we dont get to be part of the one community we feel we relate to.
Sex repulsed ace? You’re great. I feel.you. I know exactly what that’s like.
Sex positive ace? Man thats awesome. Whether it’s just from a like casual interest or curiosity in it as a fascinating topic or as an active participant because you like how it feels. If you arent attracted sexually to people you’re ace too and still welcome here.
Grey-a? I bet that was really confusing to figure out man, im so glad you’re here. Don’t worry I promise you’re awesome too, youre not a “fake” or anything like that.
Demi? You go, dude. Being attracted to your partner or someone you have that bond with doesnt make you less a part of our community. It doesnt meanmyou were “never really ace” or that now you’re totally allosexual. Demi is just as valid as other orientations.
Basically anyone that feels like they are part of the ace spectrum is awesome and you belong here, fuck what other people tell you.
Unless you’re a raging asshole and like a murderer or something. Then you arent awesome.
person: hey i need you to do a thing
me: *begins doing the thing*
person: you don’t have to do it right now though
me: *stops doing the thing*
me: *never does the thing*
Finally, I Get To Know What They Mean
here’s a little song i like to call “i cherish our friendship so i won’t tell u i would totally have sex with you if you asked”
I often forget that superheroes are supposed to be these hyper-masculine male fantasies because I spend so much time talking about their emotional vulnerabilities and imagining them in lacy thongs
Everyone who suffers from social anxiety needs a friend who will
- help them order food when it’s too scary
- walk with them through crowded places
- help them laugh it off when they make a mistake
- not get tired of answering “no, you’re not annoying, silly goose! You’re adorable and I love you” no matter how many times it’s needed
and if you’re that friend, bless u for being fab <3
—Zelda Fitzgerald, in a review of her husband’s book in 1922 (via trishahaddad)
Reminder that F. Scott Fitzgerald stole his wife’s writing, many times, while suppressing her works. See “Save Me the Waltz”, which he forced her to revise so that he could use parts of it in his own book “Tender Is the Night”. And which author do we study in school?
I didn’t know this.
When she wanted to publish “Save me the Waltz,” Fitzgerald wrote in his diary about DELIBERATELY trying to TRIGGER her schizophrenic episodes and making her incapable of fighting that battle.
And Fitzgerald scholars KNOW all this. They write articles about how it was all okay because in the end, it inspired Fitzgerald to write Great Literature.
knife his corpse
NEVER READ ANY OF HIS BOOKS AGAIN. AND READ HERS INSTEAD. CONSIGN HIM TO OBLIVION.
Fuck I didn’t know this fuck ugh god why fuck ugh
Yep. All true. Learned about his trifling ass studying creative writing and English lit. at CSU. Didn’t read ONE of her books on high school, yet we’re taught how amazing and talented he was. Makes me sick. xBx
Dante Gabriel Rosetti did this with Elizabeth Siddal’s drawings, and her contributions to his drawings, as well. Then drove her to suicide by using her as his romantic and sexual scratching post. Then disinterred her body to retrieve the poems he had placed in her open coffin because they were “too good” to let her rest with them. Cool art dudes from history.
#Repost from @junglebarbiejulia FULL STORY. On the night of August 10 2013 I went to DC for my birthday to go to “Park Place”, an upscale restaurant. Upon my arrival at the entrance, at 11:30pm, before going to stand in the very long line I went to ask a patrolling officer where a nearby restroom was and before I could utter the words, I was met with an elbow and a right punch to my face. I was instantly knock out. My police report (which has changed numerous times this year) say I was arrest and processed at 1:50 am which is 2 hours that I was unaccounted for. I was left on the floor and when I woke up I was bleeding in multiple places with drag marks on my toes, my wrist were cut by the cuffs, the back of my head and arms were lumpy. The officers wouldn’t tell me why I was in jail and I overheard them saying what should we charge her with? We can’t say domestic, we don’t know who she is with. After pleading and begging to go to the hospital, I was met with more hostility before they finally let me go to the hospital the next days upon my release I had a rape kit done because I don’t know any thing that happened to me while knocked out and it came back positive for semen. They sent messages from my phone while I was detained. Internal Affairs came and confiscated my clothing (they never returned them) and they stole my rape kit. As of today I am facing charges for fighting a bouncer outside of the Lima Club, I was never there and its 5 minutes away from Park driving, also 5 officers that responded after I punched the manager to I was apparently Mike Tyson because when I woke up in jail I had the strength and gumption to fight some more officers in there. When the video was requested both clubs said they lost them. They follow me and stalk my home to this day, I have caught DC police trying to get in my home when they thought I had left, even the Baltimore cops help protect them, one in the rape department even asked me out on a date while my face was still battered. I have been trying to tell my story on IG only to find that police officers or this hired by then have been spamming my hashtag #justiceforjulia with blasphemous pictures. Please share her story.
This is the video from the stills posted!!!
Spread this around!!!
one of the most insidious things about depression is it doesn’t ‘feel’ like depression. even when you have it, you know you have it, you’ve been diagnosed—you still find yourself thinking, no, nope, this isn’t it, can’t be. it’s like the mental illness equivalent of that knight in monty python that keeps going ‘it’s a flesh wound! i’m fine, really! this is just a scratch, i’ll be up in a moment!’ even after all his limbs have been hacked off and he’s lying there helpless.
one of the most common narratives around it is that no one realizes they have depression until they start checking off what they consider to be normal aspects of their lives—and personal character flaws— against the checklist for depression symptoms. really key symptoms include:
- lack of motivation
- constant tiredness, even exhaustion
- finding no pleasure or satisfaction in activities they used to like, or that they know should feel good
- not seeing the point of doing anything
- increased and even unmanageable anxiety and fearfulness
any one of these symptoms drains away your ability to do work, cope with setbacks, overcome difficulties, or stop procrastinating. multiple symptoms create a pretty perfect storm of intertia and anxious self-loathing. you stop doing anything because it’s hard to get going, unpleasant while you’re at it, and afterwards there’s no reward. why bother, right? and when you’re always tired you get conservative of what little energy you can manage, and when you only feel emotions on the ‘empty to miserable’ spectrum you get really aversive to making mistakes. the whole mess very quickly and very insidiously loads every single thing in your life with toxic emotional baggage.
and then someone says to you— or you say to yourself, ‘stop being lazy’. and that haunts you forever. because you’re lazy! the work is so easy. everyone else does it. everyone but you, you lazy asshole, lying around all day not doing this totally easy thing that you should be able to but aren’t. you don’t have depression! of course not. mental illness is for victims, is for blameless innocent people who can’t be blamed for being so understandably sick. but you can be blamed. you have a character flaw, and it’s getting worse by the minute.
and that is how people who have been diagnosed, who have been medicated, who have been through therapy, can still spend all day hiding in bed and chewing themselves up over their failure to just somehow magically be a good, healthy, useful person, instead of treating themselves to a sick day and saying ‘yup! it’s depression. i need to be kind to myself.’