hopefull98

[hopefull98]

Was everything my fault?

Woman, 18. Barely old enough to legally qualify as a woman, and her whole being screams child when you look at her. Comes in with the ambulance, they tell us a car hit her at high speed and she was thrown 10-15 meters. The first thing she asks as she’s wheeled into the trauma room is “Was it my fault?”, asked through a voice thick with fear. As her clothes are cut off her body and she’s moved off the gurney to the examination bed she keeps asking. “Was it my fault?”. As we squeeze and pull her limbs, listen for breath sounds, check her pulse she apologises to everyone in the room. “I’m so sorry” she cries. “Was it my fault? Did I do something wrong?”. The doctors and nurses and lab techs and radiographers all talk over her head, throwing information around the room, making sure each message is received and heard. “Was it my fault? I’m so sorry”. The nurse standing by her head tries to comfort her. Calm her. She tells her it’s never the pedestrians fault, imagine how big that car was compared to her little body. She responds only in apologies. She’s been drugged for the pain, and she had a few drinks before the accident, but I can’t help but wonder what part of this is head injury and what part of this is simply her womanhood finally taking shape. Barely across the invisible borders that separate girls and women, and still she seems to have understood something all the women in the room have. Apologising for our existence is our cross to bear. She’s scared. She’s broken at least three bones. Shoulder, inferior ramus of the pelvis, and tibia. She’s on drugs stronger than anything she’s tried before. She’s alone. Her parents are on their way, hopefully, but for right now she’s surrounded by strangers who prod and poke and ask her serious sounding questions and talk over her and she’s so sorry, just so so sorry, that she’s here, that’s the car hit her, that we have to help her, just so sorry, and sorry if I apologise too much, sorry for that, I do that, I’m so sorry, I’m trying to get better at it, I’m just so so sorry, but was it all my fault? She lays there stripped to her underwear, underwear designed for a grown woman, that looks ill fitting and awkward on her teenage body. And I look at her, through the blood and the dirt and the bones stuck in the wrong angles and the makeup and the tears and the half dozen workers in white and green swarming around her like ants, and she’s a child, but she apologises just like a woman. I hope she doesn’t remember this. I hope the drugs and the pain does its work and this memory will turn into a hazy dream she tries not to think about. But I know, deep in my bones I know, that this lesson is something she has learned for good. To apologise. That everything is probably her fault.

[hopefull98]

When I miss you there’s always one particular night that comes to my mind. It was your third or second apartment in Berlin. I’d never met your roommates before. Instead of meeting me at the train station you went to a bar with some colleagues. I made my way to your flat and I stood outside waiting for what felt like hours. The air was wet and heavy, both too cold and too stifling at once. I chained smoked until you finally showed up. You were high, some guy in the line to the toilet had offered you drugs and ofc you’d never decline. You didn’t apologise for being late. Just let me in. I think it was the day after that you and I planned to go to a club together. We’d talked about it before I came, but as it got later and later you just got tired, you refused to get out of bed to go have a drink with me, you kept telling me we’d go soon, just relax, but soon you were asleep on the bed. I accident woke you with my crying. You didn’t even try to comfort me. You just grabbed me and pulled me in and lazily told me to stop that nonsense. When, shockingly, that didn’t actually work to stop the tears or the shaking you got annoyed, and rolled back over. Eventually I could hear you pulling out your phone, and I could hear you watching YouTube videos of some sports match, whatever was your current obsession, football, basketball, hockey, mma, videogames. You didn’t even bother to turn down the volume when I started shaking harder. I remember laying there, backs turned to each other, listening to the sound of your phone and my raggedy breath and I kept trying and failing at curbing my crying. I was facing the window and the lights from the street had this orange yellow hue. It’s the same light that had haunted me in every apartment you’d had, and the same light that would haunt me through a few more apartments and a few more years with you. I remember wondering if the rest of our time together would always be like this. Me desperately trying to cry quietly enough so as to not irritate you, you loudly watching your videos as you ignore the way my sobs makes the bed shake. I should’ve left you then. I could’ve saved myself so many more nights laying awake crying, listening to your YouTube videos and your snoring. I don’t know why that night is the memory that I always return to. It’s not even close to making the list of shittiest things you put me through. Hell, for you that was actually shockingly close to displaying any actual care. Maybe it’s because that’s the day I understood it, deep down somewhere understood it, really understood it. Understood what type of person I was dealing with. Understood the type of selfishness someone could be capable of. Understood that you and I are so fundamentally and truly different. I laid there haunted by the fact that behaviour that I could never live with, turning over and ignoring someone who I brought to tears, wasn’t just something you could live with, it didn’t even bother you at all. For you that was just a Saturday. And you’d justify yourself, you’d say my mental health made me impossible to deal with, that understanding or empathy was pointless cause I cried anyways, that it was not something you could deal with. I’m so embarrassed that I ever let it go. I should’ve cussed you out. I should’ve left and never looked back. Instead I made excuses for you too. And I kept making excuses through everything for the next three years. And it turns out it was all for nothing. You just kept taking and taking and now I’m finally free of you but I am empty. You took everything I had. And I had so much before you.

[hopefull98]

Are you becoming what you've always hated?

Isle of Dogs / Game of Thrones / Painting by Jenn Mazza / Unknown / Ancestral Memory by Hari Alluri / Unknown / Venetta Octavia / Emma Tranter / Unknown / Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo / @ machineryangel

[hopefull98]

Full stop, I hate how disabled people are ripped off when it comes to buying basic items. Why the fuck is an electric wheelchair $4000, ableds can buy a used car cheaper than that. Ableds get everything catered to them yet I’m trying to get a new wheelchair and can’t afford it. That’s my fucking legs. This also applies to things that disabled people want, like I shouldn’t have to pay $1000 for an adapted guitar. You’re ripping one of the poorest population in the world.

There needs to be a cap on how much vendors can charge for equipment rentals and items that are needed or wanted by disabled people but y’all not ready to talk about that.

Ableds, stop monopolizing off disabled people. (Ableds can reblog this - actually it’s encouraged - but don’t comment!)

[hopefull98]

[hopefull98]

Jeannine Hall Gailey, from “Remembering Philomel,” Becoming the Villainess, Richard Siken, from Crush (2005), Margaret Atwood, from The Blind Assassin, Margaret Atwood, from “Lady Oracle,” Brynne Rebele-Henry, from “Autobiography of a Venus figure,”Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; “Hemostatic,”

[hopefull98]

a while back i read a post along the lines of “if you feel like everyone hates you, it’s time to rest… if you feel like you hate everyone else, it’s time to eat” and honest to god i’ve never used any piece of advice more than i have that one

[hopefull98]

you can always start over. you can always catch up. you can still be who you dream of being. it’s not too late for you.

[hopefull98]

LA COLLECTIONNEUSE (1967) dir. Éric Rohmer

[hopefull98]

althought I wanted to finish these while it was winter , it’s still snowing here so  here, some warmly dressed folks!

[hopefull98]

Resenting the male gaze but also being obsessed with how you’re perceived by others

Margaret Atwood /// Susan Sontag /// Real Men - Mitski /// Shame is an Ocean I Swim Across - Mary Lambert /// Birds of Prey (2020) /// post by jitterati /// Liquid Smooth - Mitski /// Jennifer’s Body (2009) /// Bravado - Lorde /// Diagnosis - Cynthia Cruz

[hopefull98]

MY FAVORITE COTTAGE CORE RECIPES

Would you guys like me to post more recipes inspired by cottagecore? Please let me know ^_^

Rose lemonade syrup

Cottagecore meat pie (Original content)

Creamy vegetable soup

Chewy oat cookies

Spiced sugar cookies

Orange Cake

Cheddar biscuits

Apple butter

Cozy Wildrice Soup

Amish White Bread

Caramel apple cider recipe

Forest Porridge

Roasted butternut squash

[hopefull98]

Wayne Tsay on Instagram

[hopefull98]

playlist time!!

aimlessly walking around with the person you love. the conversations never seem to end and the day seems to be absolutely perfect. you’re laughing so hard that you can feel the vibrations radiate from your chest. 

spooky themed. exploring haunted houses and solving mysteries like Nancy Drew to the Scooby gang. Nostalgia of what you remember watching when you were little in the month of October. 

my dumbass energy is OFF THE CHARTS. got myself falling for people like a DOMINO and feeling PERFECTLY fine. 

songs that made middle school me go, “AHHHHHHHHH!!!”

euphoria themed playlist that makes you want to put on that makeup and make the world your BITCH. 

[hopefull98]

y'all will circlejerk yourself to the mysticisms of faeries and elves in european countries for centuries and take it as fact but the second native americans ask you to respect our spirituality and culture suddenly you're all aetheists

[hopefull98]

Actually life is beautiful because the sound I make while trying to breathe around hot food sounds like my dog trying to eat an apple. When I yawn my cat tries to put his face in my mouth like a little dentist man and when he yawns I put my finger in his obligate-carnivore trapzone and we both know he will not hurt me. When I do not fold my clothes, they do not hold it against me.

I am demonstrably sad, and lonely, and full of fear. But there are other people who will hold my hand, who will point out the hawk overhead, who will give you That Look in a public place. The other day at a coffee shop a child said "look! It's snowing!" so all of us strangers went to go look out the windows. It wasn't the first snow and it won't be the last but wasn't it lovely like that?

How wonderful to live in a world where birds and frogs both say beep! How wonderful to have an ocean of beautiful sharks with their dinosaur teeth! How wonderful the moon and her changing face, how wonderful the bees and their dancing to communicate, how wonderful shrimp and their forbidden layers of vision! How wonderful, you, and what you will give the world! The way we love things enough to spend entire blogs devoted to them? How people will let me explain my Pokemon team to them? How we will both jump at the scare in the movie, how we laugh so loudly, how it feels to give someone your baking? How wonderful to be alive. I am sorry for forgetting.

This is the process of getting better. With wonderful people and wonderful strangers and wonderful friends: I am getting better, slowly. Thank you, whoever you are. In some way, you've been wonderful, and left a wonderful place in the world to ripple out to me. In some small way - isn't it beautiful - I promise, you've been helping.