#tumblr feels

[haley-harrison]

[doubtful-dilemma]

This feeling is almost too familiar. The abnormal silence of the world outside, the chaos within; the low count of good deeds but always being spread too thin. I take too many deep breaths. Somehow puffs of smoke fill my lungs. Death seems friendlier most days; life, not even close. 2023 has been my personal hell. I've grieved the death, and the journey to it, of some of my closest. 11 to be accurate and June seems to be the kid that enjoys frequently overwriting the blackboard; adding a number every week.

Overall, I seem to be doing okay. The usual social media addiction and closing off myself from the world is not too bad. Does anyone feel body dysmorphia, imposter syndrome, identity crisis and existential angst heighten? And no, I cannot keep blaming the retrograde for it.

I'm rain and storm and typhoons and thorns. How is the weather inside you?

[ghst-hrt]

Have you ever liked a post then unliked it right away just to watch the heart go grey, break and fall away so it can feel the same way you do?

[velvethopewrites]

No one liking my supernatural posts, no one liking my other posts but some other mysterious third thing (no one liking me)

[jellyjamheadobb]

[sylvies-kablooie]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

[wormy-business]

I saw this question posed on tiktok, but I think Tumblr would really enjoy it too.

If a fae creature offered to give one million dollars for a bone FROM YOUR BODY chosen at random, how many bones would you allow them to take?

Light clarifications; The fae is not the one choosing the bones. The bone is taken at random. Each bone, no matter the size or importance, is worth a full million dollars. You must also declare the exact number first, you can't go bone-by-bone. You either say 2 or you say 10, you can't work your way up to a higher number. The bones are removed instantaneously, and the money is given immediately as well. You will not get in government trouble for acquiring the money.

Tell me in the tags/replies how many bones you'd let the fae take. And as always, reblog for bigger sample size.

[absentlyabbie]

no multi option, agonize and choose, no results option, pick one to find out or scroll onward

[jaggedjawjosh]

[lesbianshepard]

[likegoldintheair]

when i say i wish people started using the reblog button more i don't mean it in a 'i want more notes' kind of way i mean it in a 'i want to read about your thoughts on this particular thing' and 'i want to have conversations in the tags' and 'i want this to feel like a community again and not like any of those boring social media platforms where artists are content creators and interactions never goes beyond a like'

[what-iz-life]

Having an emotionally mature partner is TOP TIER. You're able to express yourself freely and openly. They don’t insult you. They don't give you the silent treatment. They don't become aggressive or manipulative. They listen, they respond—they patiently hold a safe space for you.

[heywriters]

If you want to write a dumb little story with a dumb little plot and ridiculously silly characters. No one's stopping you. Genuinely, no one should be allowed to stop you. Write that dumb story with your whole heart and don't hold back.

[angryonabus]

The Killer

So I was hanging out with some friends last night, and for whatever reason, we got onto the subject of whether or not we sleep with the bedroom door closed. Apparently it's safer in case of fires? But it turns out that most of my friends keep their bedroom door closed because of concerns about The Killer, aka, a person breaking into their house at night with the express intention of murdering them.

For the purposes of this poll, "I share a house/apartment" is for situations where you have your own bedroom, but there are other people living with you; "I share a bedroom" is for situations where there is another person sleeping in the same room.

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[sinitimacy]

the urge to have him pin me like that....