#i'm 14 and this is deep

[bloodsoakedlionsrevenge]

OneBloodsoakedLion's Incorrect FE Fates Quotes #46

[slimmagma]

"When the standard of intelligence is stupidity, mediocrity becomes talent"

[coucougracie]

the cookie tin metaphor

When I was maybe eight or nine, wandering around the house in mid-evening with no company except for the headache I had been sporting for the past hour because of mint chewing gum, I would snoop around my mother’s room and find a metal tin of what appeared to be Danish butter cookies. 

Upon opening it, all that I would find was needles and bundles of thread and buttons.

It was disappointing, for a hungry nine year old me. Why would I want needles and push-pins when I could be munching on cookies? I asked my mother endlessly about this, but I never seemed to get a satisfying-enough answer. All I wanted was for the pretty, shiny cookie tin to actually have sweets in it, like expected, but instead, I was always met with thread (not even in the color pink) and plain buttons.

Soon I stopped asking my mother so many questions, and instead I shifted my attention to social media. As I grew old enough to have a presence online, I would see videos and poems online depicting motherhood. Tiktoks about “the feminine urge” to become a housewife and have seven children on a farm. Pinterest collages featuring beautiful Scandi blondes in long white dresses and ribbons, holding babies with wide smiles on their faces. They were described to be gentle and maternal, as all mothers should be, without a prickly bone in their body.

Upon seeing these videos for the first time and noticing that my mother is not always as patient or gentle as the mothers in the videos, I was convinced that I was incredibly profound for claiming that she was the worst person on Earth. I used the cookie tin as a metaphor to say, “I wish my mother was as sweet and lovely as the delectable Danish butter cookies I had been promised, but instead all I find are sharp needles and disappointment.”

However, my metaphor came to fall flat as I grew. When the late winter rain in Northern California struck, and the ends of my too-baggy pants would get wet from puddles, my mother would take the cookie tin and hem the ends so that I could walk home from school with dry ankles. The neck pillow of Winnie the Pooh I had been gifted by an aunt had received many spine surgeries from my mother over the years; stitches made of threads now run up his back, holding him together. When I had to untangle friendship bracelets, I would dig into the cookie tin and find a needle to weave through the tiny chains.

My thoughts on the cookie tin have changed. What used to be dissatisfaction has grown into appreciation. The picturesque farm scenes and 1860s chemises online, like the inviting outside of the tin, are just the tip of the iceberg and are not always an accurate depiction of what mothers do. 

The needles and threads are not inviting or appealing, but the inside of that cookie tin holds more warmth and love than any Tiktok moodboard. Those paint motherhood as sweetness and endless patience, paired with lovely dresses and bright smiles. But mothers do not always have to be pristine and perfect. The prickliness and bumps in a mother-child relationship, like those of the threads and needles, are miniscule in comparison to the beauty of what mothers do for the world and the functionality of the sewing supplies.

How many women in the history of the universe have prevailed through motherhood without perfectly coiffed hair or someone to take their photo? How many mothers have used a thread and needle to mend their child’s clothes, no matter what arguments or bitterness between them? How long does the line of affection go?

The answer feels too heavy for me alone to know. For now, however, I will sit on the edge of the bed and watch my mother hem my new skirt. The cookie tin is balanced in my lap. To me, nothing will ever be as "aesthetic".

[justmelaniaxd]

What if instead of Welcome to the Wayne it was called Welcome to the pain and every character was clinically depressed

[atlassiix]

yall ever just? like just? nothing after it but just

yknow?

[xxsl3ndym4nslutxx]

it takes a very strong person to allow themselves to be weak

[sephirthoughts]

i'm 14 and this is deep

No but the Hunger Games really said "what do you hate more- the atrocities or the people who commit them against you? Because like it or not there IS a difference. If you hate the people who commit acts of pure evil more than you hate the acts themselves, what will stop you from becoming just like your enemies in your pursuit of justice? What will keep you from commiting those very same acts against THEM when the opportunity arises? And what then? The cycle of pain and suffering will never stop. Round and round it'll go. Nothing will ever change. But. BUT. If you hate the atrocities. If you hate the vile, senseless acts MORE than you hate the people who did them to you. If you are able to see that evil is evil regardless of who does it... The cycle ends with you. No, you may never get justice. But you will never be responsible for making others, even your enemies, suffer the same crimes you have. The atrocities will never be committed by you, never by your hand. And that's the way you change the world. It's the ONLY way" and that's why I am sure it will never stop being one of the most relevant works of fiction ever created

[oldfashionedie]

(Aviso: texto longo e ridículo pq eu esqueci meu diário em casa e precisava pôr isso pra fora. É sobre meu curso)

Me sinto ridícula que não tenho capacidade de elaborar esses textos gigantes cheios de referências e citações super conceituais e criar projetos completos só com a minha cabeçinha, acabo precisando de uma opinião do demônio (chatgpt), pra dar um empurrãozinho na criatividade ou pegar uma estrutura.

Aí vc diz "ah mas ninguém faz documentos enormes ou cria projetos tudo só usando o que vem na cabeça" SERÁ?? ACHO QUE CONSEGUEM MELHOR DO QUE EU PELO MENOS! Não que eu não consiga achar as respostas fazendo uma pesquisa mais profunda, mas isso leva mais tempo, e ninguém espera pelo tempo que levo para entender as coisas e ter ideias mais relevantes. As pessoas exigem uma rápidez que minha cabecinha (ainda?) não consegue entregar, então acabo me cobrando a ter um pensamento rápido também. Me sinto tão ridícula.

Sei que a maioria alí é mais velho e mais experiente que eu, e eu sinto que preciso fingir que estou no mesmo nível que eles, quando claramente não estou, parece errado aceitar que estou numa etapa diferente do meu desenvolvimento e estou evoluindo também... Me preocupo sobre o que eles podem estar achando disso. Não chegamos a ser amigos a ponto de eu poder desabafar com eles , então só posso contar com minhas próprias paranoias e observações.

As vezes estou tão preocupada com o que eles acham de ter uma pessoa tão inexperiente na equipe... Será que sou um fardo, mas como estamos na mesma equipe desde o início do ano e eu sou uma pessoa muito legal, estão com pena de me deixar? Estou atrasando eles nos trabalhos? Será que consigo contribuir com alguma coisa mesmo ou estou só Ctrl+c Ctrl+v e adicionando algumas palavras bonitas? Esses pensamentos acabam nublando minha consciência e acabo não conseguindo pensar em nada produtivo, me tornando aquilo que acho que eles pensam de mim... Que horror, é como um ciclo sem fim, como se estivesse vivendo fechada apenas em minha própria cabeça...

Falando tudo isso pode parecer que sou uma folgada inútil que é carregada nas costas pelo grupo. O QUE É MENTIRA, eu faço tudo, eu pesquiso tudo, eu estudo tudo mas ainda assim parece que eles pensam muito mais rápido que eu e digitam mais rápido e tem conclusões melhores e estão sempre certos, e eu sou só... E eu sou só eu.

Essa angústia também tem a ver com o fato de que, desde o início do curso, só tivemos trabalhos e apresentações em grupo e EU SEI SENAI EU SEI QUE VOCÊ ESTÁ COM PREGUIÇA DE AVALIAR OS ALUNOS UM POR UM MAS PQP, não houve uma oportunidade sequer pra eu provar meu valor como indivíduo INDIVIDUALMENTE só com o que EU sei, com o que EU penso, com o que EU entendi, com o que EU acho, como EU acho que deveria ser feito, sabe... E esses trabalhos em grupo (especialmente quando são com pessoas que eu não tenho muita intimidade) são um tanto pesados para minha consciência pq eu não consigo evitar de pensar em todos os membros do grupo. cedo muito fácil, fico nervosa pensando em o quanto meus erros na hora da apresentação podem afetar na nota deles também e envergonha-los... É uma pressão do krl. "Ah mas o trabalho em equipe" EU TÔ FAZENDO TRABALHO EM GRUPO DESDE O FUNDAMENTAL É CLARO QUE EU JA SEI COMO TRABALHAR EM EQUIPE! Ok, mucho legal fazer trabalho em grupo, um ajuda o outro. Mas tem coisas que... Podem ser resolvidas por uma pessoa só.

CARALHO FLORAL NÃO ERA PRA VOCÊ ME CURAR DA ANSIEDADE E DEPRESSÃO CADÊ KRL TA ENGANADO CLIENTE?? 😞

[theoreticallyliving]

I wrote a poem, it's called Fake Deep Poem

it goes like this:

I'm eleven and this is deep

The water is drowning me and I've barely just entered

I'm twelve and this is deep

I found a raft in the middle of the sea

I shoved some bones aside to make room

I'm thirteen and this is deep

The raft is sinking

I know it will continue to do so

Until the raft becomes lighter

I'm fourteen and this is deep

It's only me on the raft

Isolated on the ocean

It keeps sinking

I think I know where the bones are from

I'm fifteen and this is deep

I think I see land

It's not so far

But the raft is useless

and the water is still deep

I know where the bones are from

I'm sixteen and this is deep

The water is drowning me but I'm almost there

A few more years

A life vest

A boat

But the water is still drowning me

There is no land

[psychedelic-charm]

Why do I feel like this is an inside joke that I can't comprehend?

taylor swift albums + opening lines

[latentspaceofficial]

i often joke about how dumb my cat is. but when you think about it, she's always fed, rested, loved, and happy. she uses far less brain power and energy than i do and she is flourishing. truly she is the smarter creature and i have some catching up to do.

[erma-werma]

I think this picture I took earlier is cool

[2tfrut]

mourning is like needles. It can be scary and it's always going to be painful but it gets easier overtime.

[kolanaki]

If you're not a part of the system, you're apart of the system.

[drizzeltheraincat]

Tell me you're an incel without telling me you're an incel.

Sorry you got friendzoned but us in the real world have to build community. You know live in social groups, like humans have done for millions of years?

This would make sense if humans were solitary creatures but we're not.

Oh, and for every man who "fought and bleed" who are so put out by listening to your mark friends there was at least one woman or other community member who kept his child alive at least long enough for them to defend themselves. That's how the next generation survived. The fact you are here is a testimony of the skills all your ancestors (penis bearing or not).

Shit like this is why there's a male loneliness epidemic. This thought pattern overtime is what drives suicide rates.

Men have a lot to offer their communities. But so does everyone. And reducing anyone's value to their genitals is stupid.

Tldr: you are not your genitals. And if you see everyone as their genitals you suck as a human.

Your ancestors weep.

🫒 Ladies, This Olive Branch Is Now a Blunt Weapon.

🫒You Can Sit on It and Spin.🫒

It’s not misogyny if it’s anthropology. It’s not hate if it’s facts. And it’s not a friendship if he’s picturing you naked every time you speak.

📢 Here’s Some Game. Take It or Cry Into Your “Bestie’s” Chest About It.

Alright, sugar snap. You ready? Because this ain’t a hug, a pep talk, or a wine-fueled empowerment sesh. This is unfiltered, certified, big-brained male reality — dipped in blunt-force truth and wrapped in the sarcasm of every man who’s tolerated your delusions out of primal hope.

Here’s the game: Your “platonic male friend”? He doesn’t actually like you. He doesn’t respect you as an intellectual equal. And if he’s masculine at all, you talking is just background noise between two biological urges: food and sex.

And you’re not the food.

📉 Feminine Friendship Value = Brutally Overrated

You walk around acting like your company is the gift that keeps on giving. Like your conversation skills and vibe energy are so spiritually nourishing that Chad should thank you for letting him hear your lukewarm takes on astrology and why you “felt a weird energy shift last Tuesday.”

Reality? He’s not there for your energy. He’s there for the 0.03% chance that someday you’ll stop pretending to be emotionally unavailable and let him see one boob.

You’re not a cherished soul twin. You’re a maybe. A buffer zone between his current dry spell and the next woman with functioning hormones and lower standards.

And the more introspective you think you are? The more mentally excruciating you are to him. He doesn’t want to “get deep.” He wants to get in — and your mouth running is in the way.

📚 Science-Backed Slap: He’s Lying, You’re Deluded

Let’s get nerdy for a sec.

👨‍🔬 University of Wisconsin Study (Bleske-Rechek, 2012):

Men are chronically incapable of being “just friends” with women they find even remotely attractive. Women, meanwhile, have no idea.

Translation: He’s playing the long con. And you’re out here bragging about your “male bestie” like you’re some kind of emotional chess grandmaster. No, babe. You’re the pawn. And he’s been waiting five years for a weak moment, a sad Spotify playlist, and one cheap bottle of red wine.

🤡 Feminist Flex = Masculine Recoil

You think men like your confidence? Your sass? Your political takes? Your girlboss energy?

They hate it. They tolerate it with Olympic-level discipline because they know one wrong word = canceled, unf*cked, and ghosted.

Your opinions don’t “intimidate” men. They repulse them. Every time you say something smug about “patriarchy” or your “truth,” a masculine man adds one more reason to never call you again.

🧠 The Ancient Male Brain is Subconsciously OFFENDED That You’re Even Speaking to Him

Let me explain something no man will ever admit publicly:

When a man hears a woman talking like she’s on his level, something ancient and violent in him twitches.

That’s not sexism. That’s tribal programming. He’s carrying generations of men who bled, built, warred, farmed, bled again — and you’re out here interrupting his sentence to “circle back” to something you saw on TikTok?

That noise you hear isn’t agreement. It’s every male ancestor he’s ever had collectively rolling their eyes in unison.

💄 The Kamala Factor: Feminism’s Final Boss of Male Disinterest

No masculine man liked Kamala Harris. They pretended to — for the same reason they pretend to care about your brunch drama: Access preservation.

Kamala spent an entire campaign cackling through hard questions and ducking any masculine challenge — especially The Rogan Gauntlet™️. Why?

Because deep down, she knew one conversation with a dominant man would peel the “empowerment” off her like wet acrylics in a thunderstorm.

If you think men were inspired by her, you’re clinically divorced from testosterone.

🔍 Feminist Self-Destruction Checklist™️

Let’s make it real uncomfortable. Tally your L’s:

🔲 I think my friendship is a gift to men. 🔲 I brag about having male best friends who “respect” me. 🔲 I believe Kamala is empowering. 🔲 I’ve used the phrase “toxic masculinity” unironically. 🔲 I’ve rejected a man and still expected him to be emotionally available to me. 🔲 I talk more than I listen — especially to men. 🔲 I think disagreeing with me is “violence.” 🔲 I think this blog is “misogynistic” but I still read all 2,500 words.

Score Breakdown:

1-3: ✨ Garden-Variety Delusion

4-6: 🧠 Full-Blown Ego Schizophrenia

7-8: 💀 You are the reason male podcasts exist

🥩 Final Truth Steak: You Are Not the Prize

Your “friendship” is not a blessing. Your opinions are not a service. Your emotional needs are not currency. And your proximity to men doesn’t equal respect — it equals strategic patience until you let your guard down, your looks fade, or your last coping mechanism fails.

You think you’re the selector? Nah, you’re the fallback.

He’s not honoring you. He’s waiting for you to slip.

🧠 TL;DR:

He doesn’t want to talk. He wants to conquer.

You’re not respected — you’re silently tolerated.

Kamala is a walking 🚩 for men with working frontal lobes.

The masculine mind actively recoils at your “strong woman” act.

Your friendship is worthless unless it converts.

This isn’t misogyny. This is species maintenance.

⚖️⚖️⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This truth-punch was brought to you by evolution, free speech, and the masculine burden of restraint. If you feel triggered, please consult your nearest hormone or coping mechanism. We do not offer refunds for emotional fragility. Block, cry, or change. Those are your options.

⚖️⚖️⚖️

📢 Send this to a woman who thinks being “one of the boys” is her love language. 💬 Comment if your male best friend stopped replying after you started dating Chad. 📩 DM this to a dude who's trapped in the emotional hostage zone. 🎯 Reblog if you've ever faked interest just to keep the option alive.

[3ratsinatrenchcoatatabar]

S(he) be(lie)ve(d)