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@lovefeared

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âGrimoire inspo for my unmotivated witchesâ
Claire C. Holland, from I Am Not Your Final Girl: Poems; âGingerâ
[Text ID: âI got cursed, in every way a / woman can. / You kill yourself, over and over, / to be different.â]
They say the first year is the hardest. If you and your partner can make it through the first year, then youâre golden. I think thatâs bullshit. The first year is hard because itâs all new and youâre clueless and all of the things you ignored about your partner before the baby, is finally piling up and you canât seem to let it slide like you used to. You have to relearn things about your partner and it gets very real very quickly because before the baby, it wasnât âthat big of a dealâ when you seemed to always be the one cooking and cleaning and trying to keep the house tidy. But now you donât sleep anymore and the house is always messy. And they donât help. With any of it. You can ask for help sure, but youâre probably going to cause a fight because they work so you can stay home. The first year is a lot of asking yourself if you can live like that for the next 18+ years. Itâs a lot of trying to communicate that that shit wonât fly without hurting your partners feelings. Itâs a lot of loneliness and feeling like youâre doing it all alone because god forbid your partner lifts a finger to help keep on top of things and on the off chance they do (usually to prove a point) youâre the bad guy for not showering them with praise.
Itâs a lot of your partner getting angry when the mess and the laundry pile up because your kid is fussy so itâs hard to accomplish much of anything. The first year is learning to accept that no one cares if youâre âtouched outâ, your partner getting mad that you donât want to be touched after a long day of puke and poop and biting. The first year is a lot of sleep deprived fighting and feeling like you arenât being heard.
The first year is the hardest because it is when you realize that nothing is going to change, and you have to decide: can I live like this?
It annoys me so much when moids try to say that women have "female privilege" because it's socially acceptable for them to buy vibrators, dildos etc. But they can't do anything like that, which is wrong on so many levels but I just realised today that the reason there's no real, popular equivalent of sex toys for men is because they use women as sex toys instead

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âi am hard to love.
that, i have always known
but you climbed the barbed wire fences that guarded my heart
and said you were here to stay
i believed you;
that was my mistake
i guess i scared you away;
i was too much for you,
or not enough,
or somewhere in between
but regardless,
the ending remains the same
i am here,
with my lonely, wounded heart
and the shattered remains of every empty promise you made.â
-i am hard to love, but you were easy to lose. c.r.
I donât think Iâll ever forget you. But when I think of you, I wonât be remembering you as love, because you were far from it. Iâll remember you as my biggest heartbreak. You were a maybe. An almost. You were my dream that came to life, but for it to last was too good to be true. And to this day, I donât think thereâs anything more tragic thatâs happened to me.
c / maybe one day youâll become less of a core memory
âWhatâs the worst thing Iâve stolen? Probably little pieces of other peopleâs lives. Where Iâve either wasted their time or hurt them in some way. Thatâs the worst thing you can steal, the time of other people. You just canât get that back.â
â Unknown
âI canât promise to be your friend, but I can promise to pick up your calls at 2 A.M when you need my voice until you sleep because it helps you (at least until you find someone new). When your sister calls me and asks me how Iâm doing and your mother tells me she misses me, I promise to sincerely say I miss them too, because I do. On the day you marry the girl who steals your heart and make you laugh the hardest since I left, I will be there and sit like everyone else as the two of you share a kiss. And I promise to hug you, and it will linger, because we stand on the day we always talked with such hope, those mindless daydreams of the future, but never think itâll turn out like this. We will share a look when we part ways, or perhaps one of us will look while the other turns the other way, that otherwise canât be said, or translated into words. I canât promise to be your anything, because only we know what we mean to each other, yet in the infinite space of my heart youâll always be a constant star, even if youâre no longer the center of my world.â
â we love but weâre not lovers

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Iâve only met a handful of people in my life that I can actually be myself around and not feel like Iâm putting on a show. Like, I can be completely honest down to my core and not worry about them thinking differently about me or liking me less. And I canât explain it but it takes a certain type of person for me to feel this way with and a connection like that is so rare that when you find it, itâs really easy to mistake it for love. And sometimes it is or it can be, but not always. Those people are special but it doesnât always have to be love. And thatâs why there are certain people that I always want in my life, in some capacity, Iâm just not sure what capacity that is. I just know that I canât give up that connection. And it might be a matter of having a lot in common or similar senses of humor or caring about the same things, but itâs deeper than that too. I think itâs that we think a similar way and our feelings are somehow connected and the way we express or react or make assumptions about things and the motivators that cause us to act are all aligned. I donât know, but I know itâs something more than surface deep. There are certain people that are just on different levels with you than everyone else. And you hold on to those people.
âSomeone once asked me what depression feels like. I said âlike a slower way of being deadâ and I know it doesnât make any sense but thatâs just the way it is. laying in bed, unable to move even though there is nothing physically wrong with you doesnât make much sense either. A family member once asked me why at my age I didnât have a job. I said âiâm sickâ and they said 'being sad isnât the same as being sickâ and, yeah, theyâre right. being sad ISNâT the same as being sick. i canât call in sad to work, or to school, or to anywhere else for that matter without being accused of throwing a self-pity party to which the only attendees are me and my sadness which is constantly being invalidated by those who donât understand it, including me, because I donât understand my sadness either. itâs difficult to admit this but the ugly truth is i have been sad for so long that I no longer remember what itâs like not be. kind of like when you have a cold and canât breathe through your nose but instead of not being able to breathe through your nose, you canât breathe AT ALL and all you can do is wait to suffocate while the people around you ask you whatâs wrong but you canât tell them because it wouldnât make any sense. It never makes any sense.â
â
Itâs crazy how the relationship you have is only because you bonded over hating me.
being mentally ill is weird, I can go through traumatic shit and maintain a poker face but then have a mental breakdown over losing a pen

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This is the NRA and Republicans in a nutshell
Okay but this is a great use of this meme. Just really.
I cant believe that a panel that should say âmovies and videogames are the real cause of this fireâ wasnt added to this as well.
here, I added more
some more
âIn films, we are voyeurs, but in novels, we have the experience of being someone else: knowing another personâs soul from the inside. No other art form does that. And this is why sometimes, when we put down a book, we find ourselves slightly altered as human beings. Novels change us from within.â
â Donna Tartt, in this 2013 interview by Laurie Grassi for Chatelaine