stories are made to be told

I think part of getting better is complete ego death. Like you’re not above setting a timer for 5 minutes and focusing on a task. You’re not above doing a very simple 3 minute workout to start. You’re not above reading for 10 minutes a day when you first get out of your reading slump, even if you used to read for hours. You’re not above starting slow and then building up to where you want to be/where you once were. What you are above is total inertia. Doing something really is better than doing nothing. Radically accept where you are, radically accept your limits, and go from there. Don’t let your ego get in the way.

The really unfortunate thing about mental health progress is that sometimes you realize you've made it in the form of "wow, I haven't felt this bad in a fucking while"

On the one hand it's a bit of a pick me up in a dark place to know that this will pass because it has passed before on the other hand sometimes it isn't entirely a pleasant thought to go "wow, I used to feel like this all the time. That was pretty fucking bad. It's pretty bad right now too also."

Someday your current baseline will be the sort of thing you consider A Really Bad Day. It does get better.

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.

so basically the five people who wanted to uphold his exile were in the right

(emerges 3 hours later covered in blood) i figured out what emotion i was feeling

the fact that at the council of elrond glorfindel is like “just throw the ring into the ocean” is so funny to me after reading the silmarillion just because it feels like the subtext is him being like “yeah let’s try maglor’s patented and tested method: Just Yeet The Accursed Fucking Thing Into The Water”

#in fairness they do do literally the other fëanorion approved method of magical item disposal #glorfindel: we could do like maglor and throw it in the ocean? #elrond: no we’re doing like maedhros and jumping into a volcano via @lesbianlanval

Those…those really are the four methods aren’t they?

Listen, Boromir knows 1 (one) ancient elven story and damn it, he’s going to ride that horse until it dies.

have you noticed that they don't even want you right clicking anymore

[ID: Screenshot of the reblog tags by @/thebowlingalley on this post which read, "btw / shift+right click on firefox bypasses a website's shitty custom right click menu / WHATTTTTTT / PREV WAHT????????" End ID.]

i love you sharp strong aquiline nose women and we have to kill the button nose/rhinoplasty plague together