Bro She Didn’t “let You Smash” She Was An Active Participant In The Mutual Smashing Process

Hey. Hey you. The person aimlessly scrolling, stuck in an immobilized standoff with your brain

It's not your fault. You won't be stuck forever. I know you're trying. I know you hate it. It's ok.

And tell the Mean Voice in your head that it's not helping. It knows as well as you do that you would get up and Just Start the task if you could. You're not doing this on purpose.

Take a deep breath. Relax your jaw. I see you trying so hard to break out of it, but you can't force it. You'll get Unstuck eventually. All you can do in the interim is be kind to yourself.

Not diagnosing a child doesn't mean they won't notice they're different. It just means that instead of thinking "I'm struggling because I have autism/adhd/anxiety/depression/schizophrenia", they will just conclude that they are struggling because they are stupid, weak, annoying, unlovable, etc.

as an aroace person with limited sexual experience, no interest in watching porn, and poor sex ed as a teen, there IS something simultaneously funny and vaguely tragic about being 28 adult years old and realising how extremely tiny your frame of reference is for genitalia and deciding you should expand this to better understand bodies (yours and others). and then you're just there like "okay so what the fuck do I even google right now, anyway"

can y’all just… like or reblog if y’all are polyam-safe blogs

me as a 14th century knight: this sucks i'm gonna fms (translator's note: fall on my sword)

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit

mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters

me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

I sat with a crying second grader today. (The age range is outside my wheelhouse but I was the most convenient adult.) He was crying, the other adults said, because his brother took a phone he was playing on. “Phone addicted,” everybody said. “If he would get up and play games with the other kids he wouldn’t be crying.”

He told me everyone lets his brother take things from him because his brother is younger, and doesn’t know better. He told me he doesn’t want to play because he’s tired, he has too many extracurriculars this summer and can’t get good sleep because “everyone in my camper is so loud when I’m trying to sleep.” He’s exhausted and only eight. His mom’s an acquaintance and told me she and the kid’s father are going through a separation — mom and four kids left the house to stay in a camper.

But people will seriously not listen to kids crying over seemingly minor things because on the surface it looks like a tantrum. If kids are given the space to articulate themselves they often will.

There is no better feeling to me than knowing i had leftovers in the fridge and knowing they went missing because of my little brother. The container sits empty and dirty by the sink and there’s not a scrap left. Just this morning he insisted he wasn’t gonna touch it bc i probably poisoned it. He made a face as if there was trash in the container rather than food. I come home later, and the leftovers are gone. My brother is fed. Im content in knowing that I’ll never have a problem of having made too much food. I will just always give it to him. I asked earlier today if he wants waffles for tomorrow morning. “Can you make them with chocolate chips?” He asks, a little polite. “Yeah.” I smile. “I’m also gonna put poison in it. And a bomb.”

we must teach the children to pirate music