#choosing myself

[free-my-mindd]

Choosing myself >

[etherealbabexoxo]

Choosing myself over shitty situationships and friends-with-benefits situations that have no benefits 🥰🥰🥰

Always value yourselves ladies!!! Be your own lover first, and make that the standard for everyone else

[01zfan]

Why aren’t you participating in boycott?

aw hell nah i'm not about to have my inbox turn into a battleground again

[tiredofthatsameoltweak]

How do you let go of someone that you planned forever with..... Again?

How to you turn your back and walk away from a person you can't imagine your life without?

How do you unlove a soul that you literally lived for when you couldn't find the strength to live for yourself?

How do I KNOW now that it's all over, that it's all a waste of time? Because I can see it and feel it, I can hear it and even taste it.

I see it because your eyes no longer light up when you see, you roll your eyes (and not in a good way) when I try to joke with you, your smile towards me no longer reaches your eyes, you appear to be in agony or at best pained when you spend anytime with me. I see it when you would rather look at your phone than at me, when you put as much distance between us as possible without being obvious.

I can hear it on the way you say my name, there's nothing special about it anymore just another obligatory word in your sentence, when you see love ya too whenever I say I love you, or when you say see ya workout looking up from whatever you're doing. They hold no weight anymore just a knee jerk response to a person speaking. I can hear it on the silence from you when I'm begging for a response, for you to tell me I'm wrong when I tell you I feel it ending. I hear or the loudest in the silence that now feels the space between us where once there was laughter, conversation, and inside jokes.

I feel it when I hug you and I loosely get a one arm drap above my shoulders as you turn your head away from me, when I reach for your hand to hold and it's no longer there, when I put your arm over me in the middle of the night and you don't squeeze me or pull me closer instead you just roll over. I feel it in my gut when I hear your phone go off and when I ask you say it wasn't you, I feel it the most when I look at you and realize that you don't see me the same and you don't want to.

But the worst of these is the taste of longing on my lips for yours, of the biter comments that you spew so easily, of the dryness of any conversation that we have, but mostly in the tears that I'm not often left to cry alone behind closed doors and in quiet cars in the dark, because crying in front of you feels so wrong now you can't see me in that vulnerable state you wouldn't protect me, you'd attack harder and tell me I'm manipulating the situation or that I'm overreacting and you'd leave.

No longer do I feel safe confiding in you because it's just giving you ammo for later. No longer to I feel heard or seen or loved or wanted. There's no appreciation only entitlement and disapproval. There's nothing I do that you get excited about or that you look forward to. No plans for the future, but plans to leave under different circumstances. The taste of betrayal when I realize that my feelings and wants and needs don't matter once I'm out of sight. The taste of heartbreak realizing that I no longer matter to you as I once had.

I've given you more than enough time, too many chances. I've laid out the bare minimum that I need and I've compromised those just like the originals to bend and cater to you, but the time has come that if I were to bend anymore I'd break and I can't afford to break again. Especially knowing that there will be no one there to help me pick up the pieces or to put them back together. When I know that there is no longer a fire or even a spark left because you've been smothering the ashes of what was once the most beautiful I ever stood within. I've fought to hold on the whole time knowing in my heart that you were extinguishing any hope that appears, in some of the most damaging ways possible. But I held onto the hope that you were having a hard time and that I could love you through it, and that ñ when you saw how much I loved you and all that I'd do for you maybe you'd understand and it would get better, but it's only getting worse. I have no desire to even entertain the idea that maybe some day you'll snap back and be the man I fell in love with. You've the good in you is fading and you don't care in fact I think you're happy about it mm someti and that's nothing I could say, or do that can change the outcome because say the end of the day....

It all comes down to a choice that you made, and sadly it wasn't me. But know that I love you still, and I would have chosen you a hundred times and a hundred ways. I would have sacrificed everything for you, but knowing that you don't feel the same I gave to choose myself this time over you because if I don't choose me that isn't anyone else that's going to anymore.

[successebony]

[joyeeta16]

I will choose you over and over again to break my heart over and over again until I stop choosing you and start choosing me...

[lunarrisenfirefly]

Choosing Myself - On things I should have done.

There were a thousand warning signs.

Your dad flipping at the drop of a hat.

Your mother's nosiness.

Everything she saw.

How quickly we progressed.

I should've left after that.

I should've left after your dad kicked me out.

Now you and everything you put me through are scarred through my brain.

I won't ever forget you.

As much as I'd like to, I'm still going through your echo.

I'm still going through your damn aftershock.

I'm still haunted by you and every time we touched.

Everytime we touched, loved, argued, hated.

I have no one left at that place.

My second home.

But that's okay.

I have another.

I have a better one.

I have people that care more about me than you ever would.

So, (hopefully for the last time), goodbye L.

Yours nevermore,

James Q.

[vizthedatum]

As I keep recalibrating, I wonder if I’ll ever strike the right balance of “trying to converse and repair/sustain a relationship” vs. “choosing myself and leaving the relationship.”

I don’t know, but I do know that I’ve swung hard into self-destruction/relational-destruction both ways. I’ve often made the right choice. I’ve often made the wrong one or timed things wrong; I have many regrets.

I must prioritize my own well-being from now on, even if it means that I’m wrong. I can still be kind, I can still work on relationships even if something goes wrong, and I can still keep growing.

I forgive myself, and I don’t need to have always made the right choice, as long as I always come back to listening to myself with the information - to my path.

[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.

[egophiliac]

Please elaborate on your twst Pokémon headcannons I’m very interested

I had planned on drawing everyone for this (I made a LIST!) but it. hasn't been going well. 💀 soooo here's what I have so far!

Riddle - Roserade (I was going with 'no legendaries', otherwise I would've given him a Shaymin) (and I don't think Togedemaru is actually a hedgehog or I would've given him one of those too) (...they kind of do fit though. hmm.)

Trey - Alcremie (clover/mint cream + strawberry/ruby cream)

Cater - DITTO SQUAD! DITTO SQUAD! DITTO SQUAD!

Ace - Impidimp (I feel like there's probably a better one for him, but I can't think of it)

Deuce - Scraggy (meanwhile I KNOW deep in my heart that this is true)

Leona - Pyroar (but like. a nasty Pyroar. just a grizzly old Pyroar with the shittiest attitude imaginable. they pretend to hate each other but secretly they are a bonded pair, do not separate)

[teriel]

I’ve never been good at choosing myself.

I’ve never been good at saying yes to myself.

I’ve recently come to realize that because I’m going through this intense transformation in my life, where I’m looking at everything that’s come before and I’m seeing all the patterns that have influenced my choices, whether those choices have been relationships, or jobs or anything else I’ve done and what I’ve come to recognize is how much the choices I’ve made have been about saying yes to other people and no to myself. And pretty much everything I’m saying yes to are old patterns that have kept replicating themselves with new masks, but underneath it all is the same narrative, the same giving away of personal autonomy and sovereignty and the person doing that isn’t anyone else other than me.

Read more.

[sunflowergraves]

[probablyhuntersmom]

Siblings who gotta learn to choose themselves after being granted literal new life

[vizthedatum]

Everytime I think of you, I now think of every single time I was chosen by a teacher or a friend - or myself even. I will think of all of the people who got me here today, who’ve supported me. Who’ve shown me the love I want and deserve.

[cemeterything]

anyone else ever feel like they can never say what they mean when they talk to other people. like i'm just making noises with my mouth that vaguely resemble what i'm actually trying to communicate.