one of the milestones of adulthood is getting really distressed when other people do the dishes differently than you. once I watched in horror as my roommate poured dish soap on her plate like it was pancake syrup
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decriminalizing drugs and being opposed to forced rehab is important as a leftist but what a lot of leftists i meet seem to be unable to grasp is that you need to also be ok with people doing drugs for the rest of their lives. of course healing the environment that causes people to become addicts and making mental health services available and making drug use safer via needle exchanges is important, but you also need to know that even if all addicts are given all of those resources some of them will still continue to use drugs and you need to be ok with that. you need to view that as neutral. you cannot proclaim yourself a leftist while trying to dictate what people do with their own bodies even if you think you have good intentions or that its in the best interest of an addict. you need to accept this if you have truly destigmatized drug use in your mind like a lot of yall claim you have but dont actually reflect that in your words and actions when you call for forced rehab. help should always be available and encouraged, but the option to still use drugs despite that should be too. zero criticism will be considered on this post cause i know yall that disagree with this and merely cosplay as leftists online have never actually had an addiction or known someone with an addiction. have a nice day.
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people always say Jason’s the black sheep or the edgy one or whatever but they don’t even give him smokey eyes or black lipstick so it’s hard to take people seriously
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you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.
you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.
instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.
you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.
your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.
because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.
so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.
all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.
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Not trying to be rude or anything but you shouldn't use the word 'manic' or 'manic period' etc. unless you actually have manic/depressive episodes because it downplays how severe those disorders can actually be. They're just words but unlearning harmful terminology like that can help destigmatise mental illness and I would hope youi would want to do that.
yeah it's almost like i used those words specifically because i DO understand how severe they are
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hi. go say something nice to your favourite writer(s). let them know they’re loved and seen and appreciated, and that their place in this world is not dependent on whether or not they’ve written anything recently. write that comment on that fic you’ve re-read for the fifth time just now. invade that ask box and give them some flowers in thanks. imagine a world in which they don’t write anymore, and be aware of the power that lies in kindness and genuine, random appreciation.
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in today's episode of "i am the whitest person i know," i went to go take a shower and noticed the veins on my shoulder were toothpaste blue. aquamarine paint chip color. if you used a digital color picker it would be #42e6f5.
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