Nous sommes nos choix.

lowkey wet at crocheting

Real recognizes real.

you still have so many years to meet so many people you never knew you could love so much

having parents that were really angry and petty and abusive when you were young is weird, because it makes part of you grow up to want to be kind, to generate good things, to be a source of peace and wellbeing for others; but it makes another part of you grow up to be quick, and sharp, and spiteful, and that’s always the part that shows itself first in a hard situation, so it’s a struggle between your hateful gut reactions and your wish to not add any more misery to the world. it’s a hard balance, and the people who really, really know me - i know they see that anger flash in my eyes before i quiet it, if i quiet it…i want to overcome years of conditioning, and with gentle, constant force, i know i’ll mellow it. it just takes time.

Imagine if you were a Christian medieval person from a small village and you had a feud with your neighbour… how annoying would it be to see them in church every Sunday? Not only are you obliged to be in the same space with them every week but you’d have to watch them receive the sacrament and have their sins forgiven even though you know damn well they don’t deserve it… and on top of that you get the priest preaching “love thy neighbour” from the pulpit, I think the fuck not, I’ll not love an unneighbourly misbegotten churl such as he, preach though thou might, father

I think I just got possessed by the ghost of a man who’s still really upset about his neighbour’s pigs eating his cabbages

happy halloween month time for my favourite post of all time

This is like a Scooby Doo bit I love it