more about uplifting stuff I think?

I’ve always been a fan of an analogy I heard once. Your emotions are like one of the lights on your car’s dash. When one of them turns on, it means you need to check under the hood and fix them. It’s not bad that the light turned on, per se, and it doesn’t always mean something is broken. But what IS toxic, dangerous, and likely to break something, is when you let that light stay on, pretending it’s normal, until that braking fluid finally fails and you crash into someone, or your engine fails completely.

“People can’t anticipate how much they’ll miss the natural world until they are deprived of it. I have read about submarine crewmen who haunt the sonar room, listening to whale songs and colonies of snapping shrimp. Submarine captains dispense “periscope liberty” - a chance to gaze at clouds and birds and coastlines - and remind themselves that the natural world still exists. I once met a man who told me that after landing in Christchurch, New Zealand, after a winter at the South Pole research station, he and his companions spent a couple of days just wandering around staring in awe at flowers and trees. At one point, one of them spotted a woman pushing a stroller. “A baby!” he shouted, and they all rushed across the street to see. The woman turned the stroller and ran. Nothing tops space as a barren, unnatural environment. Astronauts who had no prior interest in gardening spend hours tending experimental greenhouses. “They are our love,” said cosmonaut Vladislav Volkov of the tiny flax plants - with which they shared the confines of Salyut 1, the first Soviet space station. At least in orbit, you can look out the window and see the natural world below. On a Mars mission, once astronauts lose sight of Earth, they’ll be nothing to see outside the window. “You’ll be bathed in permanent sunlight, so you won’t eve see any stars,” astronaut Andy Thomas explained to me. “All you’ll see is black.””

Serial Killer: metaphorically, if you were to kill someone, how would you do it?

Writer: how long would it take to die if you were to potentially stab someone in the guts

Writer: *shows the serial killer the murder scene they’re writing* babe, i’m not sure if this would actually work?

I love this, I love all of this, but quick question, does the author know? Like are they aware that their significant other is a serial killer or do they just think that they have a morbid sense of humor? It’d be even funnier if the author had no fucking clue, like how Aurthur Conan Doyle was apparently stupidly gullible, and on top of it they’re a horror or crime novelist. Like the serial killer works at a butcher shop or something so it’s completely normal for them to come home smelling like blood, no murders going on here, no sirey. Just my darling coming back home from a long day at work.

Plot twist, The serial killer and detective use to go out so it gets sub what personal. 

Since it’s Halloween, don’t forget the scariest costumes ever:

Secondary depression is a depression in an individual who has one or more preexisting, nonaffective psychiatric disorders or an incapacitating or life-threatening medical illness which precedes and parallels the symptoms of depression. (link)

Y’all, I lost years out of my real-ass life because every health care professional insisted that my anxiety and agitation were symptoms of my depression, and wouldn’t believe me when I said I felt sure that my depression was a symptom of being anxious and agitated.

Indentured servitude is opresssion.

“im getting old” starter pack