love, love, my season

man if you're disabled you've GOT to find some way to make your fuckass body a source of pleasure whenever you can. jacking off. eating good food. wearing soft clothes. kissing an animal on the head. whatever you can do

going on a guilt trip do yall want anything

if you really cared about me you wouldn't have to ask

we are NOT bringing 4chan incel terminology to this site, take that "foid" out of your post and go wash your blog out with soap

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.

you think pluribus can't get any more disturbing when you're presented with the idea of humanity becoming part of a blissful hivemind that wants the few stragglers left to join them, and then episode four smashes a barrel over your head with the realization that for carol, the entire world has suddenly reverted into what was the worst experience of her life. a conversion camp full of saccharine smiles with the sole purpose of making her assimilate. fuck