#I'M HAVING A NIGHT

[brokenbecquerel]

dream future employment: cuddling and hugging His captured girls as they bleed out and begin to die hazily in the backseat of the VW, cheerfully telling them what He's about to do to them!

[monstersliveinthemirror]

Anyway since I'm emo tonight I'm thinking about how Alex was the first person I ever talked to about my gender stuff and how he was so supportive and open to talking about it and asked questions and was so kind and helped me start to deconstruct how I saw myself and when I think about that and how genuinely he seemed to care about me and how much work he put into our situationship I just get so hurt all over again

And it's not even that I believe he didn't care or that none of it meant anything (it would be so much less confusing for me if I believed that) because when it ended he clearly said that even though he cared for me he was choosing her because that's what a decent guy does and yes I'm to blame for my own shitty choices but damn I wish this was black and white and he told me he didn't care about me and he told me none of what he said was ever true

[deathandthesoul]

Reblog to give prev gender-affirming bottom surgery

[madeoflyn0127]

[clonerightsagenda]

Ohhhhhhh my god on top of getting to play suffocation simulator every night I just got charged $150 for what should be a covered annual visit but digging through my benefits summary it looks like the insurance we switched to last year only covers 1 visit every 12 months rather than once every calendar year for the sole purpose of fucking people over. I'll have to call to confirm tomorrow but it is so hard to remember that insurance phone line people are presumably real human beings with souls like the rest of us because I want so bad to be like "a) fuck you b) are you kidding me c) I hope you all die"

[im-tempted]

Sometimes you've just got to stay up too late cleaning your kitchen and listening to your favourite songs when you were seven

[esoomris]

listen to loud angsty music while struggling to put the fitted sheet back on your mattress if you want to feel the thread you're hanging on by fray dramatically

[haunted-skitty-doll]

men...... pretty ............

[captain-habit]

I hate the constant contrast of this place.

I hate that I'm lucky to be able to live here, but this is a place that literally makes me sick, in a situation that prevents me from recovering or thriving.

I hate that I feel guilty for being unhappy with my situation.

[sawthatmountainburn]

the american psycho hip to be square scene but it's about weezer and can't stop partying

[happybunnykat]

Reality is so weird you can say some shit like "We are all destined to die" and it's just straight up true. This post sucks actually.

[hithergreenchapel]

Are you ever struck by the fact you're effectively a dying god collapsing under the weight of the ages or are you like normal

[snarchaeologist]

just girly things questioning my whole career path at 8:16 pm on a saturday

[gender-luster]

if i had a nickel for everytime an unsuspecting me put on a jesse eisenberg film as a distraction from my mental health only to be hit across the face with casual transphobia including use of the word tranny that actually ended up making my mental state much worse-

i would have two nickels. which isn't a lot, but it's kinda weird that it happened twice

[ren-c-leyn]

Orchids

I don’t know orchids,

Not the way she does.

We crowd around the kitchen sink,

Water dripping ever on,

As we pull the delicate flower,

From her ornate ceramic prison.

A heavy sigh escapes her,

And I can’t help but look up.

“Moss,” she says,

Tone hard and tired.

“They don’t care,” she continues,

Pulling at the stringy green with gentle violence,

A quiet savagery I had not,

Once connected with her small hands.

“They need air, the roots.

Too much moisture rots them.

You know what moss does?

Smothers and drowns them.

The poor little thing must want to scream.”

I feel my heart sink as she picks up the scissors,

The weight of sacrifice and ceremony,

Heavy on her shoulders.

She picks a root, tracing up to a patch of black.

The kitchen falls quiet with the snip.

It feels like we’re at a funeral,

Mourning a loved one,

As she cuts and cuts,

Trimming a great forest of root,

Down to what seems like nothing.

We pull out the new pot,

Clear and plain, with holes every which way.

“Gentle with her now,

We have caused her enough pain,”

She warns me as I begin to bury the orchid,

In scoop after scoop of earth-scented bark.

We bury her to the air roots,

Or what is left of them,

And she stares at our handiwork for a moment.

“I don’t know if she’ll make it.”

“Orchid are delicate, aren’t they?” I ask.

“Not so much, what makes them delicate,

Is that we’re the ones tending them.

Some of us love them,

Treat them right,

There are those who care,

But are clumsy with the actual work involved.

Then there’s the moss...”

“They don’t care,” I finished for her.

“It doesn’t care,” she echoes, running her fingers,

Over the dark green leaves.

“What can we do for it?”

“Wait and care. It’s all that can be done.”

She cleans up the kitchen,

While I watch the little plant.

I don’t know orchids,

Not the way she does,

But listening to the sink,

Drip ever on,

I think I begin to understand,

Just a little.

~ Ren

[girliefag]

white people will literally listen to country music 😔