nerdygirl2888

[nerdygirl2888]

Lily of the valley (=｀ω´=)☘️ You can grab wallpaper HERE!

[nerdygirl2888]

They hurt you. You will likely carry that for a long time. It wasn’t fair. You’re allowed to say that.

I get so tired of people who respond with “life’s not fair,” or “you’re letting them win by holding onto the past.”

Yes, it’s important to move on and not let it run your life, but it still wasn’t fair. And sometimes, we need to let that out.

Denying us that or making us feel bad about that is very invalidating. It’s okay to be angry, sad or whatever else and acknowledge the wrong that was done to you.

[nerdygirl2888]

The Guardian

I see you there trapped in fury, trapped in agony

Trapped in things you don’t understand 

Various years old—never not quite old enough to comprehend

To obedient too raise a voice against the ones who raised you

Still, the arguments, and the fights are ignited in you 

Silently screaming as you want someone to notice the darkness that had covered you

(I see you there, on your knees begging for relief from this unseen force that controls your life)

I know where you’ve been, I know what you've seen 

Because I’ve been there too once upon a time, I was there in your spot 

I know the fury, I know the agony 

I know the bitterness directed at the adults in your life, 

I know the anger for never speaking up when you had the chance

I know the regret you have in wondering that maybe if you tried again, 

That maybe if you said the right words it could have been different.

(She doesn’t deserve the ire, she is just holding on the only way she knows how even now) 

You only need a hand to hold and whispers that things will change. 

So hold on, 

You will come out the other side, even if she’s battered and scared

(I can’t change the past…I’m sorry I don’t have the key to time)

But I will be there, as you invisible bruises that will come and go and they will shake you to the core, 

Memories and nightmares haunt your mind 

Distorting the past, confusing it until you’re wondering if you overreacted, 

But you know the truth you are too afraid to speak deep down inside. 

Yet you’re too polite to confront the people about your anguish that tears at your soul 

(Know that I am here, I am there. I am beside this child who has been wronged on all levels)

She is You, and You are Me and together we learn to piece together the puzzles of our past, 

Interlocking the tragedies and comedies so they are at peace.

To learn how to speak for ourselves, to understand ourselves, to advocate for the things that never happened, and to condemn the things that did, to forgive ourselves for the things we had no control over. 

Because the sand in time is always flowing, growing and glowing that light to follow.

I will be here at the end of the tunnel, with open arms and first aid kits to heal the wounds you’ve ripped open and endured all these years.  

[nerdygirl2888]

One of the most delightfully shocking things I’ve ever read still has to be the scene in Rilla of Ingleside, where Rilla is confessing to her mother that a boy asked her to kiss him goodbye before he went to war. Our Anne, that Anne-est of Annes, then coolly (!!) replies that she thinks Rilla should have (!!!!!!!).

The “I didn’t raise a prude, did I?” heavily implied in a story of girlhood interrupted by 1914 still gives me a little shiver of utter delight.

[nerdygirl2888]

Rilla, doing her hair: Hold on, now. A girl has to take her time getting pretty. Do you think all of this—[motions to herself]—was an accident?

Gilbert, to himself: Yes. Yes, you were.

Anne: [trying not to laugh]

[nerdygirl2888]

Rilla Blythe: I’m exhausted. I was up until 4 AM with the baby.

Gilbert, the king of dad jokes: It’s probably not good to keep a baby up that late.

[nerdygirl2888]

August-Short Story

The sun was bright, hot, and constant in those August days. Yet, the brightness was needed, it blinded your conscience in a way you might only expect. It was the august heat that made the sweat roll down your back, your clothes sticking to your skin, much like the saltwater of the ocean. It was August and August was your time.

There was you and there was him in the old rusted truck of his, blankets and pillows on the warm sandy beach, and later in the rented cabin that you managed to get for the weekend.

He was your everything, he was your one. His kisses were intoxicating and you were barely an adult for more than a few weeks at this point. But you feel it in your bones, your soul as you catch his hand in yours. Fingers entwining like black magic because it never felt this way before for you.

Still, he whispers those sweet words, the apprehension that came with that one night.

Were you sure?

You were sure and never been more about something in your life.

He was yours, and you were his in some awkward movements that made you feel things that you never felt.

Your family doesn’t quite get it, but they can’t say much these days as you race out the door in bathing suit tops and tied sarongs. Large rimmed sunglasses that you found in your mother's closet from her childhood in the ’70s. Your polaroid camera is stashed away in your bag, while your sandals are in your hand.

Your overnight bag tells them that would be back on in a few days.

No one tries to stop you, but the looks are disapproving.

Time passes too quickly for your liking and it's the little things that bring you back to the present. Pieces of mail from college admissions, that week of orientation you are supposed to go to.

Instead, you’re twisted in bedsheets, learning his body again for what feels like the tenth time or was the twelfth? Twentieth time? The bottle of wine empties once more, only reminding you that things weren’t permanent when he left again.

You talk about dreams and what you wanted in life. Memorizing his grin when he looked down at you. He’s been there and done all that, all those freshman activities that will encapsulate your life in a few short weeks. He’s finished with all that know, done with his bachelors and in the world of internships and mentorships. 

You don’t know if it was you, or him. Maybe it was the magic of summer that dwindles as the sun sets earlier and earlier and earlier each evening. Then one day you’re forced to say your final goodbye, which is laced with bound to be broken promises and false hope. You’re so enthralled that you don’t see the shadows lurked in the corners that make or break this new world of yours.

You find yourself waiting, and skipping out of parties, watching the telephone. Checking the answering machine for any sort of message. 

They don’t come.

Slowly you wake up, slowly you rise and begin to find yourself. A different self, as change is always for the better these days. Soon you’re blushing in the hallways, looking at boys holding beer cans and deciding just want you want for yourself.  

One day you’ll wake up and think about that August and realize he was never yours, not in the way you wanted him to be. Feelings washed away like a ship lost at sea, memories and mementos are packed away because they no longer matter.

You see each other by random luck years later. Everything comes flying back to you, but you only nod your head in passing as you pass each other by. Wondering for a brief moment if he remembers? Remember those days by the ocean, nights under the stars in the back of his old rusted truck. How those moments defined those last days of carefree youth, allowing you to bloom into something much greater.

In the briefest moments, you can still smell the salt in the air when you close your eyes. Though this wasn’t August anymore.

August had long past and you smile back on it like a fond memory.

[nerdygirl2888]

I once had a crush on Dean Priest......thankfully I grew out of it! 

Who's Dean Priest?

hoooooo boyyyyyy

dean priest is a character from the emily of new moon books by LM Montgomery and before i whack on the read more because SERIOUS LEGIT TRIGGER WARNING for EMOTIONAL ABUSE I’ll just sum it up by saying he’s a dude a lot of women at the turn of the twentieth century were writing about, the one who doesn’t mind if you write, a little, but only on his terms, and certainly not so well or seriously that you’re better than him, or more interested in it than important things, namely, him. 

 the emily books were semi-autobiographical and written after lmm married a minister and tried to balance out writing and being a minister’s wife. 

also, she suffered from episodes of severe depression and probably bipolar and im not saying that she left a really weird note by her bed the day she died but im like, totally saying it 

anyway so it’s not like dean is, in the series, shown as a positive influence on emily’s life. it’s explicitly said a few times that he’s not quite what you want to be around. like there’s something off about him and you can’t quite tell what it is, but also you can’t quite tell your niece “this is why you should stay away from him”. he’s toxic, but not only that, he’s got that little tinge of … vampire? to him. it’s not sexy. it’s someone forcing your attention back on to him, someone telling you how much he loves you and how much you should love him back.

READ MORE BELOW, I AM NOT SHITTING AROUND WITH THE TRIGGER WARNING FOR EMOTIONAL ABUSE AND CREEPYASS NASTY BEHAVIOR OH MY GOD I WOULD PAY GOOD MONEY TO SHOOT THIS ASSHOLE IN THE NUTS

  Keep reading

[nerdygirl2888]

Adult? What’s an adult? I still look for the oldest person near me when I don’t know something haha.

😬😅😭

[nerdygirl2888]

Looking what I found. Giles was always my fav and I had a writer ship between Buffy and Giles for a while. Doesn’t shock me since Snape and Hermione are also my second biggest ship.

[nerdygirl2888]

I need this.

[nerdygirl2888]

I never put two and two together lol, lol but damn same time period for clothing and damn that highlight. Lol

I can’t unsee this similarity

[nerdygirl2888]

So I’m Canadian

More importantly, 

Inside the purple bag is three smaller bags of milk, each contain a litre of milk. I call these bags:

I’m french so I don’t know the english term???

So you take the poche

Then you cut the corner 

and now you have a spout. Now you poor yourself a glass and enjoy. BAGGED MILK IS NORMAL STOP JUDGING MY MILK @siriusly-not-over-remus

[nerdygirl2888]

I blind people with my legs.

[nerdygirl2888]

Sometimes I Make things. Chocolate no bake cheesecake, Oreos and strawberry mousse!

[nerdygirl2888]

All finished! Love the lace addition to it!

[nerdygirl2888]

Pattern E from stylish dress book. Moon rabbit fabric!