#“let me go get an adult to handle this”

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Not gonna lie, as a kid, I did NOT realize how much basic algebra and basic geometry would be involved in adulthood. All those word problems that you HATED as a student? They are preparing you to think your way through REAL SITUATIONS.

Real life word problems I have solved (or watched my dad solve, because he's very good at "let me show you how to do this Adult Stuff, so one day you can handle it on your own"):

I am preparing to retile the bathtub/shower in my bathroom. If the area is [measurements] on two walls and [measurements] on the other wall, and the tiles are [measurements] and come [number] in a box, how many boxes do I need? Does this include border tiles, which are [measurements]? Does this include cutting some tiles into two, where I need less than half a tile? How much will this cost? Do I need to keep the receipt to return extra tiles? What other materials do I need to prepare the wall for tiles, and how many of them do I need?

I want to make a cute knit hat. I have picked out a stitch pattern, a yarn type, and the appropriately sized needles. Using these, 5 repeats of the pattern is [measurements] and my head is [measurements]. Also, the border pattern that I want to use is [measurements]. How many repeats do I need to make for the hat to fit around my head? How many rows long should it be to cover the top of my head and down over my ears? When do I start decreasing for the top of the hat (where it goes from a tube to a circle)? Or do I start from the top and keep going until it's the right length? How do I adjust the pattern to account for the increases (top-down construction) or decreases (bottom-up construction) while I'm forming the top of the hat (the circle part)? If the pattern was written for flat knitting (back and forth) and I'm knitting in the round (always start rows on the right), do I need to adjust the pattern for that?

I want to follow a pre-written pattern for a fitted garment, BUT the test swatch I knitted came out the wrong size for the needles I used. Do I change needle sizes or rewrite the pattern [See process above for writing a knitting pattern.] If I change needle sizes, what size should I try next so I hopefully have to knit the fewest test swatches? Do I *like* the way that the pattern looks when I change needle sizes, or are the stitches now so loose that it's worth changing to a thicker yarn (test swatch was too small and bigger needles look bad), a thinner yarn (test patch was too big and smaller needles/tighter needles are hard to work with) or rewriting the pattern?

I am going to build a small wooden ramp for my new shed. What are the relevant local building codes? How long does my ramp need to be to reach from the door of the shed to the ground (which may be sloped) while keeping the appropriate slope? Am I using the gentle slope for handicapped access or the steeper slope for utility access? Is the ramp so long that it needs a level platform in the middle? How much space will this add? How many supports do I need? WHAT KIND AND HOW MUCH LUMBER DO I NEED TO BUY FOR THIS PROJECT? See also: screws, screw bits, support brackets, etc. How much will all this cost?

I want to reorganize my bedroom. What furniture do I have? Am I adding or removing any? What measurements do I need to take so I can make a small model of my room, doors, windows, electrical outlets, etc, and furniture? If I am doing this with graph paper, what scale am I using for "inches to graph squares" and what size does everything need to be? When I'm ready to move everything, what order do I move the furniture so that my largest pieces don't get trapped somewhere awkward?

If I also want to PAINT my bedroom at the same time, how do I move furniture so that I can reach the walls while doing the least rearrangement for heavy pieces? Do I have space in other rooms to temporarily move things out of my way, or do I have to keep most stuff in my room the whole time? How much stuff can I declutter and get rid of before I start?

I want to start a new embroidery project. What materials will I be using, and how much of each will I need? Can I use the things I already have in my Craft Stash, or do I need to make a run to the craft store? How big will the finished project be? Do I want to frame it (this will require extra fabric around the edges for mounting, plus the framing materials) or sew it on something as a patch (this will require a seam allowance and possibly backing fabric for the patch, like stabilizer) or embroider an existing item? What new techniques or skills do I need to look up and learn before I start?

I want to put organizing bins in my pantry cabinet. The shelves are [measurements]. Many of the cans and boxes that I want to organize are [measurements]. Of the organizers available, what size should I look for and how many will I need? Do I want everything one size, or do I want some larger or smaller for different things that I'm storing? How much extra effort will it take to set up and maintain this system, and am I willing to invest that effort - not just at the start, but as an on-going basis?

At work, we keep track of how much product we produce, the materials we use, and the waste that we had. (This helps for tracking "what does it cost to produce each item, including labor" which is important for budgeting. Unfortunately if management is obsessed with maximizing profits NO MATTER WHAT, this can lead to process changes that are REALLY ANNOYING.) If I have 5 rows of boxes plus 3 extra boxes on a pallet, and each box holds 12 items and each row holds 7 boxes, how many finished items are on the pallet? If I have 2 finished pallets (12 items per box, 7 boxes per row, 16 rows per pallet) PLUS that partial pallet at the end of the shift, how many items did we make that shift? If we threw away 68 lbs of material during the shift and there are 3.36 items per lb of material, how many item's worth of material did we throw away? What was our percentage of waste for the shift? (These ARE realistic numbers!) How much total material did we use during that shift, and when will we need to order more? If there are three production lines on the shift, all making different items and using different materials, how do we track everything? Are there any changes that management can make to make production more efficient? (More product produced, less materials and time wasted, less machine downtime for mechanical or user error problems.) How likely are those changes to drive experienced workers away, and is the cost of finding, hiring, and training new employees to a similar level of skill so high that we should NOT make those changes?

Word problems are EVERYWHERE when you're an adult, and half the trick of solving them is recognizing that they exist, and then figuring out what questions you need to ask to solve them, and what info you need to answer your questions.

One thing they don’t tell you about sewing is that it is actually ironing

[on-the-clear-blue]

Something that I think people tend to forget is that...through the batman cross overs, Scooby Doo is canon to DC... that's just...truly insane to me.

It also makes me think about a certain teenage ghost that is commonly thrown into DC...

---

Danny stared down at a motley crew of four young adults, a seemingly speaking dog and man dressed in a sad, stained treanch coat looking so done with the rest of them.

Why you might ask was he staring down? Because some how, some way through a Rue Goldberg machine of utter bullshit he managed to get wrapped up in a net, that if the slight shocks to his body were correct, was ecto-charged, meaning he couldn't simply faze through them.

The tall blonde teen gave a woop of joy as Danny finally stopped spinning, "Wow, Velma! That net your aunt gave you sure came in clutch! Looks like this spooky spector ain't getting out of this one!"

Said girl, which Danny is now slowly, to his horror, is recognizing as his cousin, Velma Dinkley who was related to his mom, and if the almost terrifying glint to the girls glasses were to be trusted? She was just as wickedly smart.

"Well of course my dear Fredrick, once Shaggy and Scooby noticed the ghostly goo Casper up there was leaving around here it wasn't hard to figure out we weren't just dealing with a man in a mask, but a proper, bona fide ghost."

Velma held a proud smirk on her lips, hands on her hips as she looked up at Danny, she had caught a glint of recognition in her eyes, followed by a bit of doubt bit that was quickly shaken away.

The lanky teen, now identified to Danny as "Shaggy" looked both fearful and proud of himself, "Like zoinks Scoob! We really did catch ourselves a ghost...though this one doesn't look half as scary as the last one..."

(It was slightly unsettling to see the dog chuckle, though if Danny was going to be honest to himself it wasn't the weirdest thing he had ever seen)

The mentions of catching other ghost made Danny's head snap to them, a frown forming on his face, while he did know he was horrible at being spooky (much to his ghostly half's shame) he wasn't trying to be! He had been trying to stop Vlad get some sort of artifact that the sad trench coat guy had, though if this was the only ecto-net that they had...

Danny's eyes widened as he looked down at the group, "Shit you guys have to let me out of here! Please you...you just made him angry!" Fidgeting in the net, Danny could only helplessly beg the gathered people below, "You Guys won't be able to handle him...Please you have to get some where safe!"

The last teen, a girl with long red hair tilted her head up, and even while Danny was above her, it felt like he was being looked down upon, "Really? I have heard some pathetic threats but that one wasn't even thst good, you simply arnt going to be-"

Here words were cut off as the sad trench coat man started wheezing suddenly, grasping at his chest as sooty ash started pouring out from his mouth, great big blooms of black smoke, his cigarette falling from his now open mouth, his eyes screwed shut, but slowly a red light started glowing from behind screwed shut lids.

The red head backed away quickly, eyes wide as she watched more and more black smoke pour out from the man, "Freddy somethings wrong with Mr. Constantine!"

Before Fred could react, the red light shone brighter than ever, the last of the black smog falling from the newly named Constantine's lips before the man toppled over, body unmoving.

Danny could only watch helplessly as the body moved in a sickening way, bones popping and muscles rippling, a glowing red amulet floating out from the man's buttoned up shirt, and when the man looked up at Danny, cold chills ran down the teens spine...

Because those were Vlads eyes. Danny was too late.

[highdefhoetry]

interrogation.

disclaimer: although this is mostly fluff, the author is an adult & this is their kink. minors dni, do not like, do not reblog, do not follow.

cw: tickling, playful interrogation, verbal teasing, slight yandere/overprotective vibes because caleb is caleb

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heartbeat quickens as he stares down at you with a gentle, yet eerie smile. You shift in place, rustling the bed sheets beneath you as you try to break free of the hands pinning your wrists down. Despite your best efforts, there’s little you can do now to escape. Caleb has always been stronger than you, and now he’s got you trapped, he won’t let you go so easily.

“So, pipsqueak,” he leers down at you, smirking. “You gonna tell me where you were last night?”

You pout and shake your head, earning a small chuckle from your childhood friend.

“Not budgin’, eh? That’s alright. I have ways of making you talk.”

His playful tone makes it hard to take him seriously. But when his free hand drifts to your side, right above the curve of your waist, a strike of terror shoots through you as the implications of his words finally sink in.

No! Not again! Anything but that! 

“Begging already?” he scoffs, his amethyst eyes focused on yours. “But I haven’t even started my interrogation yet.”

Long fingers wrap themselves around your ribcage, tapping them gently and causing you to jump slightly. He’s barely touching you, but it’s the anticipation of what’s to come that makes you squirm. His cocky smirk grows as he watches the panic overtake you.

Isn’t this what always happened? Childhood memories flash through your mind, scenes that played out countless times when you were kids. 

“Heeeey, did you eat the rest of grandma’s cookies?!”

“Where’s my black hoodie? Did you take it again?”

“You better give back the missing parts of my model plane, or else!”

Caleb would pin you down, ask a seemingly innocent question about something silly, then tickle you until you came clean with the truth. Back then, it was one of your favorite games to play with him. Sometimes, you’d be extra troublesome on purpose just to get him to do this to you. Other times you did it just to get his attention. He always played along with it back then, so it was no surprise that he was playing along with it now.

“If I remember correctly… your ribs are pretty ticklish.”

Caleb’s voice brings you back to reality, along with light clawing of your ribs. You howl with laughter and try to twist away, but are unable to break free of his grasp. He alternates between poking, prodding, and pinching, all of which make you giggle wildly. His face lights up with amusement as he watches you struggle.

“Aha! I was right. You always went crazy when I did this to you. Now, what about your underarms? Are they still super ticklish, too?”

His hand suddenly climbs upwards, scribbling the sensitive area that is your armpit. He laughs when you let out a loud shriek and stays there for a few seconds longer than you can handle, enjoying the pitiful little sounds he’s eliciting from your lips.

“Oh, man, this must reeeeeally suck for you. You know, this will all end if you just tell me what I wanna know.”

You splutter out something provocative that’s somewhere between a “fuck you!” and a cackle, which only spurs him on more. His nails tickle a path from your bicep back down to your pit, then back up again until you feel like you’re losing your mind. All while his voice coos in your ear, whispering playful threats with a gentle breath that tickles you even more. You can barely get out a word now, you’re practically screaming.

He stops for a moment and lets you catch your breath. You’re totally worn out and weak from all the struggling, so trying to break free is useless. But your few seconds of mercy ends quickly as his interrogation continues.

“You ready to talk now, pipsqueak?” he grins. “Or am I gonna have to get a little meaner?”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. You feel his long fingers brush across your stomach, circling your belly button. Your giggles reignite, although they’re a bit more subdued since he’s taken a lighter approach. His nails trace your skin in random patterns, barely grazing you yet eliciting flurries of giggles with every touch. He hits a particularly sensitive patch of skin on your lower belly and lingers there for a bit, savoring the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip.

“If I knew any better, I’d say you were enjoying this,” he teases, slipping a finger into your navel. You arch your back and squeal, and he laughs at your expense. 

“Yeah, you definitely are. Looks like I gotta up the ante a little bit.”

His light caresses turn to purposeful strokes, quickening in pace as he tickles every part of you he can reach. The way he moves from one spot to another is so fast you can’t brace yourself and end up shrieking each time he switches things up. The worst comes when he squeezes your hips, with his thumb in your thigh crease and the rest of his fingers digging into your plump skin. The squeal that escapes is so loud that it’s downright embarrassing. 

“Aw, is this the spot? Riiiight… here?”

He tickles that damn spot over and over again, never slowing down, never granting mercy. Your begging is renewed, and you’re unable to hold out any longer. You finally relent and tell him that you’ll talk, that you’ll tell him anything, just please stop! You can’t take it anymore!

“Alright then,” he clamps his hand on the top of your thigh and gives it several firm squeezes. “Talk.”

You try your best to answer him through your frantic laughter, but you can’t get the words out with the way he’s kneading into you. 

“Hmm? What was that? Sorry, can’t hear you through all this noise.”

Asshole! You try to hurl insults at him, but your words turn into incoherent babbling. He torments you like this for a while longer, then finally lets up and gives you some respite. Breathlessly, you explain your whereabouts the night before in detail, knowing he’d probe you for them if you kept things too vague. You leave no room for further questions, desperate for release. When you’re finished, you lay there with bated breath praying that he’ll accept it. Then finally, after a few seconds of deliberation, he lets go of your wrists and gazes down at you with pure affection in his eyes.

“Really? That’s all? And here I thought you were out doing something you weren’t supposed to. Why didn’t you just tell me, pipsqueak?”

He smiles wide, cupping your cheek for a moment before tickling under your chin. You laugh and smack his hand away, and he responds by ruffling your already messy hair. 

“Still just as bratty as ever. Listen, if you want my attention that badly, just ask. I’m always happy to oblige.” 

He flicks your nose with his finger, then flashes a smile at you. A warm, familiar that you have always loved, and always will.

[hojichiuu]

Gryffindor!MyungJaehyun drabble

thinking about Gryffindor!MyungJaehyun. belonging to a long deep ancestry of renowned wizards and witches. popular and adored by those around him, the star pupil who aces every test he's been given, the seeker whose quidditch match nobody dares to miss, high expectations from the adults who stare lasers into his back to ensure he won’t ever mess up. a life that had already been set in stone for him, and for as long as he knew, this was okay. 

because for jaehyun, this is all he’s ever known. the star pupil who lights up every room he supposedly walks in. the one whose smile is rumoured to be utterly contagious, filling the tables with laughter the moment he opens his mouth to spill another joke, the one whose always seen to be surrounded by the girls who flock to his charisma and boys who have grown to admire his demeanour.

but as the jokes die down, and those by the gryffindor dinner table begin to disperse into their own conversations. he lets himself peer over to the slytherin dinner table to catch a glimpse of you. because whenever you're in his line of sight, and your eyes meet, he finds himself letting out a deep breath he didn't realise he was ever holding in.

the same couldn't be said for you though. born into a family where your father was a pureblood who fell in love with your muggle born mother, you had no clue about the wizardry world until you reached the age of 15. your fathers family constantly reminded him of their utter disappointment, where as for you, they refuse to acknowledge your existence. because acknowledging your existence meant admitting their pureblood family was no longer pure.

safe to say, you did not come to hogwarts to do anything other than to prove yourself, your worth, your existence.

so it doesn't help when the so called go lucky golden boy follows you around like a puppy trying to get to know you, purposely finding the closest seat next to you whilst studying, flashing his so called charming smile whenever you locked eyes. it doesn't help that the one who everyone sets their eyes on in all of hogwarts has supposedly set his eyes on you. it doesn't help when whispers fill the air, warning jaehyun of your dark past and to not get involved. reminding him he has a duty to fulfil, that he cannot just simply do as he pleases, especially not with you. it doesn't help when you try absolutely everything in your power to push him away.

it doesn't help when one night, after the last train leaves for christmas break, where the two of you are out in the cold with your boots buried deep into the snow. jaehyun breaks for the first time. for the first time his back is turned away from you, and all you can see is the slight shake of his hunched shoulders as he lets out silent cries. his knees constantly trying to buckle beneath him, his fists clenching so hard as his nails dug into his hands you could've sworn you saw blood.

without a thought, your arms run to engulf his unstable figure, face pressing into his large coat as you hold him as tightly as you could, praying that your feelings could translate through your actions.

"don't." he mutters out in between his sobs.

"don't do this to me" he sucks in a deep breath before continuing, "don't make me think that i have a chance when i don't. because i don't think i can handle anymore of this."

it doesn't help when you suddenly feel the salty aftertaste of tears between your lips, letting out a shaky breath as you eye the fog that escapes from your mouth that disperses into the cold air. for once, like jaehyun, you allowed your tears to fall.

it certainly doesn't help, when you are finally aware of the soul that lies within your heart that ignites when you're with him. it doesn't help when you realise it's breaking.

-

i hope you guys like this small drabble i just came up with!! if you want it to be a full story, i have been thinking of making one so your words will definitely encourage me <33

[unofficialoracle]

This is such a great post, because it may actually be possible to pinpoint "where it all went wrong for us", and what we can do about it! I've been listening to the audiobook of The Anxious Generation by Jonathan Haidt, and he has an entire chapter about how a number of factors (one of the primary being social media and smartphone prevalence among kids and teens) have significantly reduced the amount of true Play time children have with each other.

Humans learn how to navigate social situations best as children, when they are Playing with other children, without adult intervention or imposed structure. Human brains are primed to do exactly what OP is describing. Children naturally seek to mediate, to comfort each other, to find mutually beneficial resolutions to conflict that strength the group's bonds. Studies have shown that the strongest neural pathways are created when children get these experiences with other peers, through playing games with rules that the children create and enforce.

Letting children Play in this manner is how they develop both their agency (I feel capable of figuring this out myself) and their community building skills (I support the people around me, and they support me).

The children could not have found the base problem - Jessica was playing by unspoken rules that Arjun broke - had the rules of the game been created for them by OP. The adult rules would be better communicated to the entire group, and likely would have an imposed structure as to how to handle conflict. Much less opportunity for the children to practice their community building skills.

The children also could not have practiced agency had OP been one of the primary humans to engage with a crying Arjun or Jessica. Most kids are going to default to allowing the adult to handle a situation once an adult has decided a situation is worthy of their involvement. When adults consistently step in every time there is conflict, children feel less capable of handling future conflict on their own.

By letting the kids console Arjun, and mediate themselves, OP gave the children an opportunity that has become increasingly less available for them - the chance to figure it out themselves. And they did figure it out, because our brains are primed towards pro-social behavior, and because childhood is supposed to be a time for a human to be Practicing Skills of All Types in environments where failure is expected and low stakes.

These children have watched their parents console their sobbing sibling, they have gotten to continue playing games with their cousins because they successfully navigated conflict before a parent got involved. The behavior has been emulated for them, given to them, and they have done it before themselves. They are learning to Do Things, and they need practice.

We all know how practicing works, and skills are learned best when they are used over, and over, and over again. Children need to have thousands of experiences like what OP has described above over the course of their childhood to become pro-social, well-adjusted adults capable of mediation and conflict resolution. Nothing replaces the power of face-to-face Play when it comes to learning pro-social behaviors, unmediated and unstructured by adults.

In the United States especially (though data shows many other countries are showing similar trends), children don't Play together as much as they used to, depriving them of the opportunity to practice essential skills for navigating our society in a low stakes environment. The cost of failing a mediation when my brother stole my toy at 6, is much less than the cost of failing a mediation with my boss when I'm on a PIP at work when I'm 26.

What do we do about it, as a society? Easy - let those kids play and Figure It Out Themselves! Help them when they ask for it, or when the situation has progressed past their ability level (significant bodily harm has taken place, etc), but otherwise? Let them play, let them console each other and resolve conflict without interference as often as possible. Give them a safe space to practice agency and community building, where they have support and general oversight, and where the cost of failure is low because failure is an expected part of the process.

Perhaps we will find that in 20 years, these children will have grown into adults who feel capable of Figuring It Out because they can do things for themselves and because they have a community who supports them.

watching children successfully and compassionately self-mediate conflict and wondering if it's possible to pinpoint where exactly it all goes wrong for us

[scary-friend]

My mom has NPD, and I have NPD.

When my mom was a kid her mother was incredibly distant and didn’t want her to get attached to her.

Why?

Because she had breast cancer, any day she could be gone and she never got close to my mom as a result.

She insisted my mom always had to look perfect, never allowed to leave without makeup, she never comforted my mom when she was sick/very hurt, and you wanna know something? None of this was told to me by my mom. This is all coming from things my dad has told me.

When my mom brings up stories of her mother she’s always smiling and reminiscing about the women who raised her. She laughs about times she was hurt and her mom brushes it off because it’s just how it was. It made her tough and she loved her mom so much.

Her mom passed when she was 21. And after that she had a rather complicated life with relationships.

I don’t believe anything my dad told me about my grandma I never met. He never met her. And frankly, I don’t think he has the best intentions when he tells me those things.

Often when people talk about being raised by narcissists, they always talk about their trauma with abusive parents. But often it’s unlikely that the parents are even narcissist to begin with. They just use it as a label for bad people.

My mom’s not perfect, growing up she ignored me a lot because she’s just following with her mom would do. She just focused on herself. And it did hurt because I wanted my mom to love me as much as I loved her. Growing up now, I think my mom just doesn’t know how to take care of kids. Her household wasn’t perfect either growing up. It was very messy. Over time as I grew older It’s like she finally learned to let me in. As though before she was afraid that I would get too attached and then she wouldn’t be here anymore.

I love my Mom so much, she has problems managing her anger, but she always lets go. She apologizes without words. She buys me my favorite snacks or gets me trinkets I love. And for the first time in years, she started saying “I love you” back when I would say it.

Stuff like that is just hard for her because it’s not something she grew up with. My mom is the way she is because of how her parents raised her. she was distant when I was young because that’s what was normal. But now that I’m an adult, my mom hugs me, she checks on me to make sure I’m okay, she wants me to be comfortable in my skin, she makes it clear that she just wants me to be happy.

I’m just so tired of people using NPD as a scapegoat to call people terrible. Because my mom has made mistakes, but those mistakes don’t make her a bad person.

There’s a reason I chose my mom over my dad, and that’s because my mom loves me, would choose my happiness in a heartbeat.

My dad made it clear who he cares about more, but he still acts like my mom is the problem. She’s not manipulating me, she just knows how I am and that I can’t handle being alone. My mom knew for a long time that I probably wouldn’t be able to be independent, and that I’d need to be with her for most of my life. And she didn’t care. She’s made her life the way it is to care for me.

My dad just wants me to be a copy of my sister, and gets frustrated when I’m not.

My mom isn’t some monster manipulating me into being helpless dad.

I have chronic fatigue and pain that makes it so I can’t function well without help. Mom is taking care of me because she wants what’s best for me.

Stop saying she’s “broken.”

Because if her NPD makes her “broken,” then so am I.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go give my mom a hug.

[leglessstreetlights]

fleshing out my Relativity Au some more, i fujking love these guys, they're so-

part 1/ part 2

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

I have all of these extended thoughts on my head about the amazing way themes and character relationships are handled in Iruma-kun and the inclusion of queerness and the handling of the coming of age narrative in this shonen manga/anime

And every time all that comes out when I'm reccing it is "You should watch/read it"

Do it. Go watch/read Mairimashita! Iruma-kun/Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun

Please.

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

finished hazbin hotel and what the fuck it's actually kind of??? good???

[fleshdyk3]

god i fucking hate my dad

[bear-cubs-art-things]

hey just a couple things bc my step-dad really pissed my off yesterday and I need this to he out there:

People mature at different rates

And it's hard for autistic people to mature (quickly) because autism is a cognitive disability

Autism is a cognitive disability

[airandangels]

I have baked two 9x13 carrot cakes which I shall ice tomorrow morning, and I have begun the process of dry-brining three chickens which I shall roast with lemons and thyme tomorrow afternoon (yes it would be better with more brining time but some time is better than none). My mother's 70th birthday lunch is the day after tomorrow.

[fiendishartist2]

"petscop isnt horror" guys when webhorror doesn't have distorted faces:

[theood]

Getting really tired how every time I mention talking to someone new my mom's like "omg lol! Move in with them! Lol! Have you thought about moving in with them? Lol? Will they take you? Lol. We're so tired of you complaining lol can you just move in with them? Lol!"

Like. Wow! I never fucking thought of that one! Damn mom! Wow!!!! Revolutionary.

It's so fucking annoying because if I COULD actually move out don't you think I would have done it now? Hell. I'd be towns away if I could. Anything to get out of this fucking house. Away from your parents. Away from the constant walking on eggshells I'm doing. Away from feeling like the only way I'll be safe is by ripping myself open until I'm raw and used. But I CAN'T.

And every fucking time like clockwork it's "oh move in with x lol!"

[bluesey-182]

my bookclubs' inability to understand nuance and to either misinterpret or completely ignore things blatantly stated in the text continues to drive me up the wall and yet i keep going because im desperate to get out of the house and make connections with people, especially people who also read. but after this last bookclub, where im still angry and frustrated a whole 24 hours later, im wondering if i should just stop because it doesn't get better and maybe i need to accept that it's not going to