iminyourtea

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WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK???????????

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It hasn't gone far enough

MORE

Important discoveries being made over here.

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Key word "yet"

real rude that no one’s named me heir to their fortune and then passed away under mysterious circumstances yet

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Man, wait til he hears about New Year's

JUNE? what's next, July??? Heaven forbid, August??? When does the nonsense end!!!

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Dormant Predators

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11 Self-Defense Techniques (That Even A Child Could Use)

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This video depicts the moment Sir Nicholas Winton realises he is in the same room as hundreds of Jewish people he saved as children during the Holocaust. While appearing on the TV show, “That’s Life!” the host Esther Rantzen asked the audience: “May I ask, is there anyone in our audience tonight who owes their life to Nicholas Winton? If so, could you stand up, please?” To Winton’s shock, the entire audience stood up.

Winton was responsible for organising eight trains full of children from Nazi-occupied Czechoslovakia to London in 1939. While supporters in Britain were working to get Jewish intellectuals and communists out of Czechoslovakia, nobody was attempting to save the children so Winton took it on himself. Once Winston secured their escape, he travelled to Britain where he persuaded British officials to accept the children as long as foster homes were found. In all, Winton saved the lives of 669 children. He was not recognised for his achievements until 60 years later because he kept quiet about his exploits. In 2003, he received a knighthood from the queen for his services to humanity.

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May be Christian, but y'all are honestly stupid if you're homophobic

Reblog if you're not homophobic

Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad. 

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I'm glad you noticed. I am in fact, quite hot

This isn't tea! This is just hot meat juice!

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#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

her name was jenna. she was eight years old; i was seven. our favorite book series were warrior cats and avalon: web of magic. her favorite game was lying to me. she was my best friend.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

crying on the playground (on the grass to the side, underneath the equipment, next to the slide, on the outskirts by the trees, at school recess, at the neighborhood playground) over and over, always the same thing: she left me, and now i’m alone. begging her to take me back for whatever i did wrong; she never did, until the next day it all started again.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

in a car, stock still, eyes closed so i didn’t have to blink, keeping my breathing shallow; she got hannah to convince me that the fairies froze me, that moving even the slightest would kill me.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

–or maybe she does. she is nine now, and you are eight, and she does, chasing me on the playground to hit me. fiona, kiki, and her are foxes; ashlyn and jamie are wolves; hannah and i are cats. jamie and hannah and me and her go to the pool, she divides us up, the goal is to kill the cats. jamie and hannah splash at each other; she goes for me, holds my head under the water until the air comes out of my lungs and i bite her–

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

the teachers say “you two seem like the most darling of friends”, put us together in every group project. she smiles and while we work together she puts down my writing, claims that all my ideas are cheating off of her, plagiarism off a book, something, anything, and i learn to smile and agree and apologize

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

women look out for each other, sisterhood is strong, women are the best friends, don’t you know that saying that girls are “cruel” or “catty” is misogyny?

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

she stops talking to me at school for months, convinces all my friends to do the same, but doesn’t stop talking about me–every lunch, she whispers to her new, more popular friends while stealing glances at me, laughing. i eat lunch in silence, staring into my food. i cry almost every recess, wandering aimlessly with nobody who’s willing to talk let alone play, learn what the word suicidal means: it means she left me, and now i’m alone. 

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

one day i ask her why she won’t talk to me, laughs in my face, what are you talking about?, rolls her eyes and turns her head away, her spine a little straighter.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

and i go home, beg my mom for another sleepover, another playdate, anything. my mom tries to tell me she isn’t a good friend, i argue, it escalates into a shouting match, i bang my head against the wall hard enough to leave a lump on my forehead. my mom refuses to agree. i still get sleepovers, i still get playdates. over half of them end in tears; i live for that minority, it makes my day whenever she shows me even slight kindness.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

i lost my innocence in the school cafeteria. kiki tells me that jenna’s been talking about me behind my back for the past year, that she was lying about the fairies and the magic and her new watch and her summer camp and about being a fox and about being my friend. she goes to class, separate from me, unaware that she shattered my world around me.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

my mom gets fed up, disgusted, goes to the teachers, the guidance counselor. the teachers tell her that jenna is a darling, a doll, a pleasure to have in class, that we’re so cute together. the guidance counselor makes me use “i feel” statements so i don’t make her feel blamed, then asks for her side of the story, and tells me with a smile that i’m being a bit too clingy, that she has other friends so she can’t pay attention to me all the time anymore.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

i am nine, and she is my friend again. she is back to lying. i am wary, afraid, but at the same time i am still in love, still under her spell. i don’t let her get too close. i make a point to make other friends–hannah, jamie, kiki, sarah. i listen to breakup songs and think of her. i still call her “best friend” before i can stop myself. i think back on that fateful day in the cafeteria and wish i could be young again. i begin to flirt with the idea of suicide, romanticize it. easier than falling asleep.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

i am fifteen, six years later, and i am deeply mentally ill. schizophrenia, delusions of cats and fairies. depression, history of self-harm and suicidal ideation. anxiety, panic attacks and paranoia and stomach aches. personality disorders, fear of abandonment and oversensitivity. dissociation, getting through the day and becoming four people: one to be her friend, one to be mad at her, two to be traumatized and confused.

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

she didn’t touch me either. people ask me what right i have to being this way and i don’t know how to answer. they ask, are you a survivor (of rape? of sexual abuse? of abuse from an older man, at the very least? because 8-year-old girls who don’t lay a hand on you and who get complimented by the teachers, they can’t be abusers)

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

my therapist talks about my trauma history and i want to object: it wasn’t that bad. then i do my best to remember that it was that bad, and i keep my mouth shut, but it still feels wrong. fake. i feel small, weak for letting that word fall on my shoulders: traumatized. by an eight-year-old girl? no, that can’t be right. must have been my fault, then, for being this way. and it is six years later and i am not over it, will i ever be over it?

#MaybeSheDoesntHitYou

but that doesn’t mean she didn’t hurt you.

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That's fine

No, that's what people use to store documents

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Is it because you're really a communist mole??

You seem to be telling us a lot about the secrets of the government, mister agent. what are you playing at? Are you just trying to get us to like you? Make it seem like you're okay but then take us down! Or are you a rogue soldier, in search of uncovering the truth to us, so that we might have a fighting chance!?! Tell us you're secrets soldier! TELL ME YOUR BACKSTORY!!

That information is classified, for now.

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216

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With straw?

Hey how’d you get there-

SLURP ME. SLURP ME INTO YOUR BODY. 

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*Reads this at the disco**Starts panicking*

Hey. Things are going to get better.

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Fine. A bagel. Wait, no. Two bagels.

gosh grocery shopping is such an exciting thing. the pinnacle of human existence. i’m about to buy 3 lbs of onions. just go hog fucking wild

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I'm running low on the souls of the innocent, could you see if they have any?

gosh grocery shopping is such an exciting thing. the pinnacle of human existence. i’m about to buy 3 lbs of onions. just go hog fucking wild