#i want to hurt myself

[yvehattan]

There are so many ways to feel like absolute fucking shit. And every day, you are able to invent a new one.

[eniokai]

Book spoilers!!

Hey guys, are there any fanfics that explore Marius's feelings and the process of coming to terms with Armand's death from the sun? I find there’s not enough of this in the books. I’ve only read one story on this topic. I’d really appreciate any recommendations you might have. (I'm also open to works on a similar theme with Daniel.)

[jzeus1]

I want to die

[theenemyod]

I really need to stop panicking and assuming everyone hates me for every minor thing. "Hope this helps" feels so fucking passive aggressive idk how to explain it. So does "respectfully". Unless I have 1000% conversation something isn't an insult I end up panicking. I feel bad when I don't ask for things because then I'm not giving people anything to do but I hate when I ask for things then actually get them, it feels like I forced them to do it and I don't know how to react. When I hear people talking I instantly assume it's something bad about me. When someone tries to talk to me I instantly assume it's about something bad I did. When my parents try to talk to me about things I instantly assume they're going to be angry at me or I did something wrong. And my parents have never done a single bad thing to me. If I don't say anything about what I'm thinking it feels bad because I didn't say anything, if I do I feel bad for making someone listen to all that when they don't want to hear it, half the time when I panic or feel bad I don't even know why. I don't fucking understand what's wrong with me or why I'm like this. I instantly assume everything I do will be judged. I worry that everything I do is possibly morally wrong, if I do/say something even the slightest bit morally wrong I can cry for hours and feel bad for months, I have an irrational fear of getting into trouble or doing something I'm not supposed to so I ask for instructions for everything but when I ask for instructions I'm annoying. At the slightest bit of pain I convince myself I'm literally dying of something, or have some sort of illness, and I don't know why, I know it's irrational. The smallest noise makes me think something's going to go wrong, if the walls make a noise I think the room will collapse and I'll be crushed to death, if the TV makes a noise I think it's going to fall, and either crush me or start an electrical fire and kill me, if the wardrobe or loft makes a noise I think someone's in it and going to kill me, if I hear my parents pets make a noise I think they're dying. I don't want to be seen by anyone, I don't want anyone to know what I like or what I do or anything about me but then I get really lonely because I can't make friends without being seen, my only friend isn't talking to me often at all and I don't know why, and I can't make new friends because I'm homeschooled and there's no groups of people by age nearby.

[cryptid-on-a-string]

everything is the worst and I want to bleed myself to death and cry so hard I never wake up again

[spencermyangel]

Bad day. 

[nurse-buckley]

.

[killbenedictcumberbatchagain]

I just want this to end

[tomato-puppy]

can you fucking imagine

someone just wanting to spend time with you. contacting you out of nowhere to hang out. asking about your schedule. making themselves available.

making space for you in their life, even if you're not there yet, but just in case you come.

[evion-sage]

I don’t want this to be real :-(

[her0-0f-space]

never before have i needed something so much and not known until i received it

shout out to autistics who get angry when they’re overstimulated. who want to hit. who want to bite. i love you. you deserve love and care too. you are not less valid or autistic because you dont have stereotypical symptoms.

[abdominal-void]

I just got triggered. I feel sick. I saw KS, which stands for Kansas, because people were talking about it on a random Twitter post. KS is where P used to live. She moved a lot closer. Only one state away. But I’m so unimportant to her that she’s unwilling to come be closer to me and also is always spending time with her stupid fucking roommates and shit. I want to blow up that entire state so they all die and she has to leave. That state is is evil. I want to torture L and take away everything he loves forever. And slam his head into a wall. I need him to suffer forever. Hell isn’t enough for that disgusting worthless piece of horse shit. My chest hurts so bad it feels like someone’s shredding my heart meat with a cheese grinder.

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[flyawayandbehappyprettybird]

Funny how a man can ask for a submissive partner that will tend to his every need and pleasure him every single night after spending the whole day calling them a good for nothing slut or whore, a useless dumb bitch.. lol, it's so funny.

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.