old.
2014 was 10 years ago. how we feeling tumblrinas
I cannot fucking believe that there are people “no angel-ing” Nex Benedict because they poured water on these random girls who had been harassing them (and had been harassing them prior, despite not knowing them). If it had been their cishet kids who were being bullied, they wouldn’t have a problem if their kids poured water on someone. And now there’s psychos saying Nex deserved to get beaten for responding to being antagonized.
This always happens, a queer person isn’t a ‘perfect victim’, it’s okay for them to die. And even if they were perfect victim, it’s still somehow acceptable. This happens to every marginalized person who snaps one day due to abuse, and gets killed.
And the excuses only get more and more stupid. “Oh they were no angel, they poured water on somebody”. Yeah, after being bullied for a year straight every school day. It’s almost like every human has their limit of fucks to give and shit to take.
I hate all of you ‘no angel’ people even more than I hate people regurgitating misinformation about how Nex died, based off of what the corrupt school and the fucking bastard cops (who are allowed to lie) say. Even the cops suspect foul play. Listen to the 911 call, that’s a head injury. Dozens of people who’ve had experiences with someone getting a head injury and dying later on will tell you that.
There’s nothing more humiliating than showing someone old pictures of you and the first thing they notice is how thin you were.
When other people say they’re dizzy, they mean ‘phew! My equilibrium is a bit off! In a just a few moments I’ll be fine!’
When I say I’m dizzy, I mean something very different.
I mean that I can see black spots in my vision, and I can’t tell if this is going to be the time I pass out.
It means that the world is swimming underneath my feet, stretching and distorting like an obstacle course even when it’s just a straight, flat path.
It means there’s so much pressure in my head and not nearly enough.
It means that I can feel my heart speed up and beat harder, trying to adjust to the new gravity, just because I’ve shifted slightly.
It means I can feel the nausea rising in my stomach and the bile come up my throat.
It means that walking is a challenge. Getting a snack is a challenge, going to the bathroom is a challenge. Sitting up is a challenge.
So, when I say I’m dizzy, I’m trying to dumb it down so that you can understand a fraction of what I’m feeling. Not that I’m not feeling it. On good days, it’s a hindrance. On bad days it stops me doing anything. Stop telling me that ‘just being dizzy’ doesn’t make me ‘that disabled’. You barely know the half of it.
Dawg I genuinely barely woke up, and my uncle was breathing so loud and making so much noise I actually almost started crying. My misophonia hasn't bothered me like in so long, but he was breathing so loud I actually just couldn't take it. How can people breathe so loud and not be bothered. It was so bad. I tried covering my ears but my piercing started hurting, and I can't plug my ears because of my nails. He was just. Breathing. So loud. I had to put on my noise cancelling earbuds and start blaring music to escape the literal torture. I tried to get a grip on myself before that but I was just gripping my wrist really hard and painfully, which didn't help anything (unsurprisingly), so here we are. I wouldn't wish misophonia on anyone, except these loud ass people. Like what do you mean I want to hurt myself aggressively because he's breathing loudly. What do you mean that's what's so upsetting
reblog this as a promise to not go back to ur starting weight <3
If you don't think cis asexual people, cis aromantic people or cis aroace people are valid you can unfollow me right now.
Stop derailing aromantic stories
Stop derailing asexual stories
Stop detailing aromantic art
Stop derailing asexual art
meet penis from my new cartoon "steamboat penis" where the titular character penis pilots a boat shaped like a penis right into some sharp rocks killing himself and all other 42 passengers on board