Insanity Personified

A glimpse into the inner workings of my mind
master-meriadoc:

i’m gonna put this here because
1.) i’m tired of only ever seeing dudes with six packs and bodies with less than 5% body fat on them on my dash
2.) body positivity for dudes is important because we also have standards of beauty (or should i say masculinity) that we feel pressured to fit all the time
3.) i’m ready to see more guys that look like me

master-meriadoc:

i’m gonna put this here because

1.) i’m tired of only ever seeing dudes with six packs and bodies with less than 5% body fat on them on my dash

2.) body positivity for dudes is important because we also have standards of beauty (or should i say masculinity) that we feel pressured to fit all the time

3.) i’m ready to see more guys that look like me

(Source: glenn-rhee-pizzaboy, via casbutticus)

I’m so disappointed. Does anyone remember how Tumblr used to be? It was an escape. An escape from bullies, bitches, stress, hard times, family problems, ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends. What the fuck has it become? Just scrolling through my dashboard, I’ve seen at least 3 people being sent abuse and hate. Take a step back and think about who the fuck you are and what the fuck you are doing. That’s not what tumblr’s about. If you are against hate, then reblog this.

(Source: he-gets-me-everytime, via nimblecas)

moon-goon:

infamousvikas:

eb-n-flow:

awhsnapcountrygirl:

gerrardly:


Yesterday my mom posted a picture on Facebook of my 5 year old brother Sam wearing a pair of shoes he picked out for his first day of preschool.She explained to him in the store that they were really made for girls. Sam then told her that he didn’t care and that “ninjas can wear pink shoes too.”Sam went to preschool and got several compliments on his new shoes. Not one kid said anything negative toward him about it.
However, my mom received about 20 comments on the photo from various family members saying how “wrong” it is and how “things like this will affect him socially” and, put most eloquently by my great aunt, “that shit will turn him gay.”
My mom then deleted the photo and told Sam that he can wear whatever he wants to preschool, that it’s his decision. If he wants to wear pink shoes, he can wear pink shoes.
Sam then explained to her that he didn’t like them because they were pink, he liked them because they were “made out of zebras” and zebras are his favorite animal :)
What does it say about society when a group of adults could stand to take a lesson in humanity from a class of preschoolers?

Words cannot express how happy this makes me.

Omg forever reblog

those shoes are fly as hell doe

YAS SAM LET THEM KNOW THAT YOU COULD WERK DOS SHOES BEW BEW 


What a cutie

moon-goon:

infamousvikas:

eb-n-flow:

awhsnapcountrygirl:

gerrardly:

Yesterday my mom posted a picture on Facebook of my 5 year old brother Sam wearing a pair of shoes he picked out for his first day of preschool.

She explained to him in the store that they were really made for girls. Sam then told her that he didn’t care and that “ninjas can wear pink shoes too.”

Sam went to preschool and got several compliments on his new shoes. Not one kid said anything negative toward him about it.

However, my mom received about 20 comments on the photo from various family members saying how “wrong” it is and how “things like this will affect him socially” and, put most eloquently by my great aunt, “that shit will turn him gay.”

My mom then deleted the photo and told Sam that he can wear whatever he wants to preschool, that it’s his decision. If he wants to wear pink shoes, he can wear pink shoes.

Sam then explained to her that he didn’t like them because they were pink, he liked them because they were “made out of zebras” and zebras are his favorite animal :)

What does it say about society when a group of adults could stand to take a lesson in humanity from a class of preschoolers?

Words cannot express how happy this makes me.

Omg forever reblog

those shoes are fly as hell doe

YAS SAM LET THEM KNOW THAT YOU COULD WERK DOS SHOES BEW BEW 

What a cutie

(via ascenti)

Anonymous asked: I am strongly contemplating suicide. I'll just stay home tomorrow and do it. I've tied up the noose and everything already.

ninjakato:

stardroid:

Anon. I’m going to share something personal with you today. And with all of tumblr, too.

Do you see this photo?

image

This is one of the few photos I have left of my mother and I. And the only one that’s digital, too.

I was about four years old in that photo. Shortly after that photo was taken, I was placed into foster care because of my mother’s mental conditions and her inability to care for me. Which was fine, it was the right thing to do.

She was taken overseas to a very good mental health clinic in Paris, which is where we came from. 

My mother had a lot of problems. Among them were her multiple personality disorder and her bipolar. She stayed in hospital for most of my life, and battled depression and her suicidal tendencies. She went through a lot, including electro-shock therapy. Nothing seemed to help. She was a very lost and very hurt woman.

And one day, on Mother’s Day of 2008, my foster parents received a phone call at about 1am from the mental hospital my mother was staying in.

My mother had hung herself in the shower of her bathroom. Her mental illnesses, her lack of access to me and the things she’d suffered through her life had snapped her. And she was gone.

I was thirteen years old. Nobody told me until the sun had risen. I left my room, ready for school. And then I was sat down, and I was told.

And I was numb.

I felt nothing, for months. Months, and months, and months.

I was a very good student at school. I got distinctions, and straight A’s. And all of that kind of just… stopped. 

The full extent of my loss didn’t hit me until years later, when I was sixteen.

And it hasn’t stopped hurting since.

I miss my mother every day. I barely got to know her, but I knew she loved me. And I ache every time I see someone walk by with their parents, or a little girl with her mother. It’s even cost me several relationships. It hurts. I can’t take it. Can’t do it.

You know the kind of woman my mother was? Kind. Smart. Thoughtful. She was a painter, and a lover of music. We lived in Australia when I was growing up, but she always loved France. In fact, it was her name. I recall my foster mother’s comment when she met her for the first time when she came back to Australia to visit me. She said how talking to my mother was like talking to your best friend. One you hadn’t seen in years. The joy in her voice, her smile.

I can’t even remember what she sounds like anymore.

Suicide? I’ve wanted to do it. Several times. It’s been tempting. Pressure builds inside your chest, and you can’t cry anymore. You feel nothing and it’s clearly just logical to end it because there’s no point living in a void anymore.

You feel like there’s no one else out there for you. You’re alone, and nobody understands.

Anon, let me tell you.

I understand. I’ve seen both sides of this coin. Nobody wins.

I know what it’s like to want to not exist. I spend half my days pretending to be mechanical because being human and alive is just too much of  a burden sometimes. But I also know what it feels like to be left behind.

It’s searing.

After the loss of my mother, I lost three more people to suicide. One was my uncle, and two others were good friends. One of them was one of my best friend.

I don’t know who you are, Anon. But I’d like to.

I’d like to know who you are so I can stop you from feeling this way. You’re not alone. And if you are? I’ll be the first to open my arms to you.

Death is not an answer, nor by any means a door to something greater.

Death is for those who have finished in this life. We are not meant to go before our time, and especially not alone.

I’m nineteen now. If my mother were still alive, she’d be thirty-eight.

It’s too young.

You’re too young.

To you, anon, and to everyone else out there who’s ever felt this way.

Stop. Breathe. Think.

Come to me, if you have to.

Go to someone. Anyone. Please.

You’re so much more than a statistic.

You’re worth so much more than tears.

You mean so much more than every person who has ever stamped you into the ground. Called you names. Failed to accept you because you don’t fit into their criteria of human. Spurned you, or ignored you. 

I know this pain. And I know what happens when that pain consumes you.

Please. Don’t go.

I don’t know you. But your life means something. 

I promise it means something.

I am legitimately crying… 

Please, Anon. LISTEN TO THIS. 
SERIOUSLY. 

Listen. 

neptunain:

i know you want to kill hitler, and we’re gonna do that! but it’s my time machine. so first, we go back to ‘96 and see space jam in theaters.

(via robert-downey-jesus)

lacigreen:

lalatinafeminista:

toomanyfuckscrusader:

hiddlefun:

cloudcuckoolander527:

talisguy:

Signal boosting in case anyone needed to know this. 

This is informative as heck. Show this to everyone!

This is actually some great info! Why can’t they teach this kind of thing in school??

Wow, I’ve taken health and sex ed three times during my educational process and never learned any of this. Thanks.

Definitely some important information here!

this is supa awesome.  i do think it should be noted that side effects of EC *really* vary.  when I took EC I didn’t have any symptoms whatsoever.  

(Source: rememberthstars, via codependentsoulmates)

blue-eyed-hanji:

thelifeofnachos:

These shows taught me all about animals, science, math, geography, reading, grammar, kindness and friendship. 

This will always be golden 

aww yissss

I can feel the nostalgia ooze into my bloodstream

(via ifoundsammysshoe)