#Emotional Connections and Social Life

[monalisha1328]

"Moon in the 11th House fosters deep emotional connections with friends and communities, but can also bring emotional challenges."

Visit now : Moon in 11th House: Deep Connections & Challenges

[yugocar]

my tumblr experience drastically improved when i realised that i could reply to people recklessly and if they dont respond its no biggie i leave them alone. the vast majority of the time i instead gain another warm kind presence on my dashboard and know that even if they some day disappear into the void i'll still have those exchanges with someone far far away who made my day better for a moment

[the-healing-mindset]

Yes, social media makes us feel closer to our people without being close to them. However, we need to make sure that we are actually checking in with them on a regular basis. Pick up the phone. Make a call. Send a quick text. Message them. Video chat. I promise you that if they really matter to you, then you won't regret doing this.

[dubacheryking]

and what if i told you that literally ever single song on unreal unearth is about dick and the various women that have ruined his life? what then?

[ennuidays]

i think im like ... incapable of incorporating other people into my plans for the future .... laik if i go from thinking about my future to thinking about the friends i have now i just . Cant really process their existence in my life Ykwim .

[themyscirah]

Thinking abt Jessica Cruz and the ability to overcome great fear again

[mejomonster]

Oh also when I start dropping the Red White and Royal Blue book quotes expect a FLOOD I'm highlighting the fuck out of this book

[cuchufletapl]

Not a fully formed thought, just something that's been rattling around in my brain, but — there's something very interesting to me about the general similarities and differences between shonen and shojo isekai trends. If isekai is (nowadays) mostly fantasy-fullfillment, I think the fantasies in question say something of the audiences to which they're targeted.

A random guy who's dropped into his favourite fantasy world and immediately becomes a badass hero who can do anything versus a random girl who gets reincarnated as the antagonist of her favourite story and now has to try to avoid the fate that she knows awaits her. Something something self-insert escapism, but also the betterment of the self portrayed in two different ways — the gaining of power and status (effortlessly, most of the time) in contrast to the improvement of interpersonal relationships. Hm.

[gh-0-stcup]

Yes, Parker - it is entirely possible to just have simple casual sex and for it not to be a big deal. However when you spend a week hanging out "incessantly" with someone, share intimate emotional info, and then just never call or see them again after having sex? That isn't simple casual sex.

[icewindandboringhorror]

*screenshots the highlights of my youtube to mp3 downloads folder as if it were some fancy aesthetic spotify wrapped image or whatever* 

[haikuku]

Daily Haikuku, no. 322

Stepping outside of my comfort zone. Excited to meet someone new!

--haikuku

[ejaydoeshisbest]

I am friendless.

Friendlessness has crept into my life so steadily, so relentlessly, that even writing the word feels like a strange admission—something I'd never have imagined a decade ago. Back then, I had friends. I was lit with ambition, starting a career that seemed like the start of a long climb. I had drive, independence, and an undeniable sense of direction. But somewhere along the way, things blurred, and that clarity eroded. So now, I'm here, sorting through the years, trying to map out where it all went wrong.

In high school, I was already an outsider. I didn’t belong, not really, and I didn’t try hard to change that. They had their worlds, and I had mine, so I stayed distant, watching their conversations from the outside, feeling the sting of being separate. When I tried to blend in, it felt forced. It felt like I was wearing a fragile mask. Still, a part of me felt compelled to keep trying, to at least pretend. I laughed along, sat at the edge of their circles, joined the conversations, though they left me feeling hollow.

College was my reset. I made a conscious choice to try, to change, to be “one of them” for once. I mimicked the ways of people I admired, those who seemed confident, well-liked. I learned the laughs, the glances, the postures that could make someone more approachable. And it worked, at least on the surface. My life started filling with the color and noise I had longed for—stories shared late into the night, plans made with people I found inspiring, infectious, even.

But the mask had its price. Some connections were real, but others, I realize now, were as flimsy as my attempts to keep up. I spent myself on people who were self-centered, toxic, and exhausting, but that high of being “liked,” of being wanted in a group, kept me going. There was a thrill in it, a strange power. For once, I felt polished, put together. I had a purpose, a path that felt justified.

Then, somewhere along the way, something in me snapped, took a complete 180. I withdrew, cutting people off with a coldness I didn’t fully understand. I convinced myself I didn’t need them, that with graduation looming, it didn’t matter. Maybe it was the books I read, maybe it was a new urge to explore solitude, independence, some untapped “artist” identity I thought I needed to embrace. The experiment was over. Or so I thought.

Looking back, I see how I convinced myself of a lie. While I still love solitude, crave it even, I know that this version of myself is incomplete. There’s a part of me that longs for connection just as deeply as it longs to be left alone. It’s hard to reconcile these two sides: the part of me that wants isolation and the part that wants to be noticed, understood, maybe even loved. I want to sit alone with my books, my thoughts, my creations, and yet I want to be out in the world, laughing, connecting, sharing stories until morning.

It’s taken me years to see how I let myself fall into this trap, believing I was fine on my own, that needing people was a weakness. I became a “lone wolf,” I told myself, someone strong enough to walk away from connections. But I went too far, let it solidify until it became who I was—or thought I was.

Now I’m here, trying to piece it all together, feeling like I’ve forgotten how to reach out, how to reconnect with those I once held close. After years of solitude, resentment, and stubbornness, I’ve grown so jaded that even being around others feels foreign. There’s a bitterness I carry, an aura of failure, and I know it seeps into every interaction, whether I intend it to or not.

So, this is my work now, my cocoon phase, where I rebuild. I need to unravel the knots of isolation and pride, and to face the parts of me that I buried along the way. To grow, I need to start small: forgiving myself, for one. For the mistakes, the years I lost to stubborn independence, the damage done. I need to learn that connection is not weakness, that reaching out is not defeat. Vulnerability is strength, the courage to bridge the gaps I let form.

This means accepting invitations even when the discomfort feels sharp. It means reaching out, sometimes awkwardly, to people I once shut out, not with grand gestures but simple words. I’ve missed you. How have you been? I’ll relearn the art of conversation, of shared interests, of showing up without pretending. And I need to balance it all with boundaries to stay authentic, to resist slipping back into the masks of before.

There’s no undoing the past, but I can commit to growth from here. With each connection I rebuild, with each moment of vulnerability, I can reclaim pieces of myself I thought I’d lost. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll find that this time, the connections I build will be rooted in something real.

Words: Ejay Diwas

[phagodyke]

aouuugh my uterus......

[unabashedlyfuriousenthusiast]

Faith It Forward

October is National Substance Abuse Prevention Month, and a story from the Fall 2024 Alcade alumni magazine, from the University of Texas, my alma mater, resonated with me. It’s the story of Jas Sethi, who turned his grief into a meaningful mission. After losing his sister, his only sibling, Simran, to suicide at the age of 19 in 2022, the 25-year-old lawyer has the ability to transform “tragedy…

[sail-not-drift]

(Via @wildehacked )

eddie diaz from the abc tv series 911

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