It's Fascism. It's Literally Fascism. Why Can't People See That It's Fascism?

on friends and soulmates and that type of love that feels like it's going to burst right out of your heart

@/zmije / @/leptodiera / @/bichopalo / lyrics from two best friends by bb bean / animatedjames on youtube / @/killingmyselfbutnotdying / unknown / @/sadiekane / friedrich neitzsche / katfish draws / @/elytrians / @/wormbus-art aka @/angel-pond / @/mushysuggestion / the unsent project / mhairi mcfarlane / unknown

“why do you have a gap in your resume” idk why is there a gap in your staff. worry about that

My heart aches for our community and what we've all been facing lately. Please hang in there, everybody.

I have this advance reader copy of a book I'm reviewing and the writing is awesome in general, the story is great, but They Be Fucking™ every damn chapter. the sex they're having is mid at best (and dv/sa at worst). I am le tired. Signed up for romantasy and got served borderline erotica instead. 🫠

Skills you shouldn’t have to learn to survive yet child abuse forces you to:

moving around without making any noise

moving around the place without turning on the light

locking/unlocking doors in complete darkness

staying stoic in the face of screaming, threats, and violence

pretense of being calm even if in deep panic

perfect pretense of being fine even in the middle of breakdown

silent crying, crying without making any noise or even tears

doing physical work while crying or injured and not stopping

sensing when someone is angry or stressed because now they’re a danger to you

comforting and calming people down in desperate attemt to lower the amount of danger you’re in

recognizing a person by their footsteps, or a car by the noise it makes when turning to a stop

turning all injustices and anger inwards and making it into self hatred

hiding scars and injuries

expertly making excuses for marks or scars on yourself

dissociating in a second if there’s danger of new trauma

repressing mountains of trauma

surviving emotionally completely on your own

Recently I keep thinking about how I wasn't allowed to clean myself properly as a child. My mother was obsessed with ridiculing me for my general hygiene making her look bad, but didn't allow me to condition my hair or moisturize my face or use soap on certain areas of my body. Like why? If you're so obsessed with how I look, why are you trying to make me look bad?

A Tweet by Dr. Glenn Patrick Doyle (@DrDoyleSays):

"When we grow up emotionally neglected, we're vulnerable to a certain fantasy that IF ONLY we can 'make' someone understand where we're coming from, we MIGHT get the care & attention we need. Hence the anxious 'overexplaining' thing."

thirty-four

bday comics: thirty-three

AN: I have an acquired brain injury, and always have a lot of feels about it on my birthday! so, disability bday comics are now a thing :)

[ID: a ten panel comic drawn in simple black ink with messily drawn borders.

One - I sit cross-legged on a sofa with an open laptop in front of me. Text reads: "And what do you do for work?" "I'm on disability." "Oh. And is it permanent?" "I mean. It's been over four years since my mTBI."

Two - Frame zooms in showing just my torso and chin. Text: "So yeah, probably."

Three - I sit forward on the couch with elbows on knees and chin resting on folded hands and sigh. It shows my whole body. I am a white non-binary person with a curly mullet, glasses, and wearing a t-shirt and ripped jeans. Text: The doctor calls me "dear" as she ends the call. It's been a long year."

Four - I stand and walk away. The image shows just my legs and the couch behind me. Text: When I first got injured, permanency was the scariest possibility. The idea of a lifetime of pain and fatigue made survival feel impossible.

Five - I stand holding a cupboard open, my back to the viewer. The open cupboard shows that it's very full of mugs and tea supplies. Text: It's not so scary, anymore. And it no longer feels just like surviving.

Six - A close up shot of a kettle steaming. Text: There's still grief, trapped under my ribcage. But I think there always will be. I've had to put away so many dreams, said goodbye to who I once was.

Seven - Close up shot showing hot water being poured from the kettle into a handmade mug. Text reads: But in the space left empty, new things have grown. New hopes. New dreams. New understandings of myself.

Eight - Close up shot of my hands holding a steaming mug of tea. Text: This injury might be permanent - but it might not be. No one really knows for sure. I love my life. I love my body, and my brain, all the messy disabled parts of it.

Nine - A full shot showing me sitting on my sofa again, and holding a large blanket out in front of me, as if getting ready to wrap it over my legs. Text: If this is the rest of my life, then what a gift to live it. I'm not done growing, hoping, grieving, healing. Still trying, and trying, and trying.

Ten - I sit on my sofa with the blanket wrapped over my legs, leaning against a cushion. I am sketching in a ringed book held on my lap, and my tea mug rests on the blanket beside the book. I am smiling slightly and look content. On the wall behind me is a quilted progress pride flag. Text: It's messy, complicated, and beautiful. But isn't that what life is?

The comic is signed h. graves '23. End ID.]