#it's been fourteen hours

[blood-mocha-latte]

well since my lab for the next three months finish yesterday by some godly miracle idk what i'm doing anymore. send help send asks does anyone need a sandwich

[respectthepetty]

If the finale of We Are isn't just Pun and Chain's wedding, then what have I been witnessing for sixteen episodes?

Call me Streuselkuchen the way I'm surviving off of CRUMBS!

[eggsistential-breakdown]

trying this ONE MORE TIME are you kidding me. this is the definition of insanity. none of you will believe what I've been going through with this one silly sketch page

tumblr are you ready to not be mira phobic aka I'm going to murder you

The original caption was just "shaky mira car doodles" but I thought the captions for the 20+ tests I did were more fitting

I CANNOT tell you how much trouble I had getting this to show up. this wasn't showing up on dashboard or in any tags. good chance this one will decide to not turn up for a bit also. tumblr hates mira. cannot believe this. Also the fact that this was supposed to be my 250th post and I kept redoing it means my activity looks like this:

[tevos]

////

[pollackpatrol]

they need to make a version of adderall that's less effective

[rustycottoncandy]

WAIT I JUST UNDERSTOOD THE "BUT HER AIM IS GETTING BETTER" JOKE FROM STAN

IT'S A PUN

CAUSE 'MISS' HAS TWO DIFFERENT MEANINGS. YOU CAN MISS SOMEONE AND WANT THEM BACK OR YOU CAN TRY TO SHOOT THEM AND MISS

IT PLAYS WITH BOTH MEANINGS

I'm stupid what the fuck

[buckynats]

.

[absolutely-zero-regrets]

getting back on my we were here bullshit by the way

[allylikethecat]

Chapters: 20/? Fandom: The 1975 (Band) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy Characters: Matthew Healy, George Daniel, Ross Macdonald, Adam Hann, Jamie Oborne Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Past Drug Addiction, Mpreg Summary:

Matty lied, which was probably a mistake since he was a shit liar on a good day, and today wasn’t a good day. He was much better at just, not saying anything, even though his therapist had told him that was really just lying by omission. He couldn’t meet Jamie’s eyes, and knew he was sweating nervously. He was hyper aware that he could feel the wand in his back pocket.

.

Just like in the bathroom after the show, two parallel lines stared back at him, confirming deep down what he already knew. The test was positive.

[rabbits-of-negative-euphoria]

me doing data entry when a man lists his beneficiary as “live-in girlfriend”: mm-hmm. ‘girlfriend.’ enter.

when a man lists his beneficiary as “domestic partner”: mm-hmm. ‘partner.’ enter.

when a man lists his beneficiary as “long-term significant other”: mm-hm. ‘S.O.’ enter.

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

Logically I understand that putting off going to sleep is not going to change the fact that I will be sent straigth for a recovery coma but……… what if I don’t Want a recovery coma

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

writing poetry sometimes feels like you gotta cut yourself open to express it idk smear all your organs all over the page and hope somebody else reads something beautiful. is that like divination the way it's expressed in various places and things? I dunno. poetry never slides off your skin like water off a duck's back. it's from within I think. sometimes you have to tear yourself apart to get at the words and sometimes it just wells up from within and gushes out. always from somewhere deep inside. sometimes it's difficult and horrible and painful but the alternative would be worse. sometimes it's from sheer joy that must overflow into words. I think that's beautiful personally. skin splitting from joy. it happens, I think, to us all at some point. or maybe I'm just a creature of extremes. maybe that online test I did because a friend recommended it is true. it said my symptoms were high. I don't know. maybe it is true, maybe it's not. I read a book once where there was a character named Nathan Hill-and-Dale, and while I'm not nearly as extreme as he was portrayed, in my extremes, I know I'm a fairly volatile person. funny, for most people who see me IRL seem to think that I'm fairly calm. nope, I'm a volcano. watch out, even when I'm apparently calm I might blow up one way or the other. one of my residents' family members said today that I was young and bubbly and she was glad to see it because happiness is the prerogative of the young. a part of me wished I told her. I have actively tried to kill myself once; I have come extremely close to the same actions countless times including yesterday; I would sooner hurt myself than others; if I had my own choice I would simply starve. of course I didn't tell her. sometimes I think I'll never get better. at this point I would consider it a very high chance that I will either die by suicide or end up in hospital following an attempt. not now, of course. but despite my fierce love for my course it has stress associated with it and I think that it's very likely that no psych help on earth would fix my mental health enough for that not to be an option mentally in this short time. I think it's possible to recover from all of the things I struggle with. God help me, I hope it is. the real question is whether I will survive long enough to recover from them. and the answer? I know not. I was reminded of a past interaction with the boy today, where he called my name - I turned - his grandfather, a photographer, was waiting to see if he could get a decent photo, for we were at a church conference and he was trying to get photos everywhere. they were laughing. I could not help but laugh. that memory is tainted now, for he would not look at me now, let alone try to pull such a stunt again. I don't blame him. I don't blame anyone for it. I wonder what would happen if I blocked all my friends on discord; who would seek me out? part of me hopes people would, another part hopes they would not. sometimes I just want to be left alone to curl up and die. it would be easier. so much easier than living, and living, and living. I tried writing poetry just now. it felt like trying to cut myself open, I couldn't get the words out. it only made me feel rather wild. I'm desperate for change, for something. something. what is that something? I don't know. did you know I'm a sadist? I would not in a public place express the thoughts that led me to that conclusion. but I am. I wish I wasn't. there's an obvious solution to that. quick, and easy. so easy. too easy. I tried writing poetry, and then instead of writing anything coherent, I wrote this.

[un-pearable]

nourishing the evil part of me that enjoys torturing myself reading horrifically ooc crossover fic . girl help

[lauralot89]

I'm fourteen hours into the thirty-eight hour Beverly Hillbillies retrospective and now the family has a chimpanzee and I keep having flashbacks to Nope

I should probably take a break

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

.

[chrimsone]

Boss makes a buck, I make a dime

So I apply to other jobs on company time