why are we still here? just to suffer? every day i get emails
dirt enthusiast
trying on a metaphor

tannertan36
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2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@schmittastisch
why are we still here? just to suffer? every day i get emails

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homestuck day observed
*tired disgruntled middle aged mom voice* okay everyone gather around the kringlefucker and let's get this over with
this thing is called bai-bao-jia.The Chinese used it to store flat items about a hundred years ago.
if you wanna look up how to make one, search for zhen xian bao
an interesting twitter thread. these are only some highlights, the thread is far longer and more exhaustive: you can find it here. i suggest you go read it
@allthecanadianpolitics made me think of you
Incredible a lot of peopleâs response to billion-dollar corporations using child slave labor is âremember to shop ethicallyâ and not âcorporations should not be doing this in the first place and need to be stoppedâ.
And the fact that basic human decency is the ethical option, not the norm...the bar for capitalism is literally underground.

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in addition to the fact that people just have different natural rhythms, a big reason why we canât seem to go to bed as early as we âshouldâ is that nighttime is, for many of us, our safest and most fulfilling time of day. we donât have to work, we wonât be contacted by bosses or insurance companies or collection agencies or other suffocating life business⌠weâre likely only to be contacted by our friends, or by no one at all. night time is release; itâs ours. we can rest or recreate. we can do things we actually want to do. who would choose to cut that short?? just to usher in the next morning when our lives are not our own again? nighttime is precious and nothing could be more normal than the desire to embrace this
Giorgio Kienerk - L'enigma umano, trittico 1900. Il Silenzio
Oha das ist Melissa
Oh nein, jetzt wissen alle, dass ich heimlich Model stehe
Still iconic đ
Source
Wolves fighting for dominance as a âthingâ came from observation of captive packs. Observation of genuinely wild packs has revealed that it is not, in fact, a âthing.â
Yâhear that, ya shitty modern werewolf writers?
hear that, self-styled âalpha malesâ?
They werenât even captive packs, they were a bunch of unrelated wolves shoved together in too-small a space.
So if youâre an âalpha wolfâ then you are, in point of fact, not the noble, fierce and imposing leader of a group who respects you, but a scared wild creature with no social support frantically lashing out at strangers to try and gain some semblance of control over a fundamentally uncontrollable environment?
Huh.
That would explain a few things.
(points) (points) (points)

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are you telling me i have to start this game without isabelle
im losing my mind
thoughts on the friendzone
when i was 5 years old my best friend was a boy named kyle who didnât know how to knock on doors so he made dinosaur noises outside my window to wake me up in the summer until i demonstrated how to ball his fists and slam them against my doors. Â we collected caterpillars in my trailer park and built them houses while we traded pokemon cards. Â he wasnât the only one. Â there was ben, and mitch, and noahâbut kyleâs the only one who hurt me, because when he tried to kiss me and i asked him why, he told me âbecause youâre a girl and iâm a boy, shouldnât we like each other?â
i missed him so much and i wondered why he couldnât just be my friend like he always was
in the first grade there was rich and joseph and i got sent to detention with them almost every day with a smile on my face. Â we built block towers and sang to my teacherâs lion king soundtracks when sheâd turn the lights off during lunch time. Â one day they got in a fist fight over me at recess, and i wondered why they felt they needed to share my friendship, like it was something they owned.
in the second grade zach and i played yu gi oh under our desks during free time and i got moved for talking to him constantly. Â everyone in the class would tease him and i for talking, asking when we were going to date already, asking him if heâd kissed me, and he stopped being my friend.
when i was 11 i met a chubby boy with the name of a colour who wore puffy vests and unwashed t-shirts, with greasy hair and bright blue eyes and a smile that hid hurt behind it. Â people didnât like him because he was silly, but i liked him, because i was also silly. Â he became my friend the day he bought me 5 giant roses and asked me to be his girlfriend, and i politely declined but promised him iâd be his best friend because iâd always wanted a best guy friend that stuck around. we burnt our feet on the concrete during the summer and walked home with the sunset silhouetting us. Â he talked often about how he loved me, but never blamed me for being me, even though he refused to move on. that boy dyed his hair jet black and sat on the end of my bed playing songs to me on guitar, and all that pent up rage from before didnât show until the first time he slapped me across the face and called me a dumb cunt.
in the 7th grade there was a boy named ryan who sat next to me on the bus and talked to me about manga. Â heâd ask me personal invasive questions but i didnât mind because it was attention and i liked attention. Â i was dating another guitarist with curly brown hair, one who was much more kind-tempered than the other, and ryan mentioned how much of an asshole he was every day. Â i wondered, why, why does he think the love of my life is an asshole? Â but whenever i asked him, he just told me, âgirls only date assholes. Â thereâs no room for nice guys like me.â
i wondered, if he was so nice, why did he say such mean things?
he never stopped with me, taking me to movies, hanging out with me, you know. Â being friendly. Â i thought we were friends. Â but then, how many times had i thought that before?
how many times had i bonded with a boy, thought they got me, only for them to ask me if i wanted to make out?
how come when i told ryan i was coming out as a lesbian, he stopped being my friend, and said âdamnit, the one girl i really want to pound into a mattress, and sheâs only interested in chicks!â
there was a boy my junior year who stayed up all night with me until the sun rose, talking about life, past loves, hopes, dreams. Â beneath a million twinkling stars spanning forever, he brushed long brown hair out of his eyes and listened to me talk about the history that made me. then he asked me if iâd ever consider dating a guy, and complained about how heâd never get laid.
when i told him no a couple hundred times, he found new girls to listen to.
i would sit on the couch and play zelda with dakota, and heâd talk about all my favourite games with me. Â he was the closest thing to support i had, and the letters and poems he wrote me were always so kind and friendly. Â but heâd put his arms around me on the couch, and no matter how many times i told him i was uncomfortable, heâd still come over every day and do it.
âdonât you know how it feels to love someone and not have them love you back? Â donât you know what it feels like to be friendzoned?â
when i meet guys who talk about the friendzone, who talk about the girls who donât give ânice guysâ like them i chance, i always want to just say
when i was 10 years old i met a girl whose brown hair fell across her shoulders and whos eyes sparkled when the sunlight hit them, whose voice was like velvet and whose scent was like mountain smoke, who made me dizzier than a fly climbing a sugar hill. Â and iâm 18 years old, and i still love her, and she knows, and she doesnât love me.
but my first thoughts upon hearing her rejection were not âwhat a bitch,â were not âshe just wants a douchebag and not a nice girl like me!â were not âim going to keep pushing her until she dates me,â
they were
âshe is the best friend i have ever had, and i am the best sheâs ever had, and i would hate to take that away from her.â
so before you play the victim, mr. Nice Guy, before you angrily throw your fedora on the ground and blame the girl you claim to adore so much:
put yourself in the shoes of a girl who thought she made a wonderful friend, only to find out that he just wanted her for sex. Â that he just wanted her for a relationship. Â a girl who was just an object to win, a prize. Â a girl whoâs trust youâve just shattered.
maybe she friendzoned you. Â but you girlfriendzoned her, first.
Even if you donât read it all, read the last sentence. Then you will understand so much about me and other girls.
âIf a society puts half its children into short skirts and warns them not to move in ways that reveal their panties, while putting the other half into jeans and overalls and encouraging them to climb trees, play ball, and participate in other vigorous outdoor games; if later, during adolescence, the children who have been wearing trousers are urged to âeat like growing boys,â while the children in skirts are warned to watch their weight and not get fat; if the half in jeans runs around in sneakers or boots, while the half in skirts totters about on spike heels, then these two groups of people will be biologically as well as socially different. Their muscles will be different, as will their reflexes, posture, arms, legs and feet, hand-eye coordination, and so on. Similarly, people who spend eight hours a day in an office working at a typewriter or a visual display terminal will be biologically different from those who work on construction jobs. There is no way to sort the biological and social components that produce these differences. We cannot sort nature from nurture when we confront group differences in societies in which people from different races, classes, and sexes do not have equal access to resources and power, and therefore live in different environments. Sex-typed generalizations, such as that men are heavier, taller, or stronger than women, obscure the diversity among women and among men and the extensive overlaps between them⌠Most women and men fall within the same range of heights, weights, and strengths, three variables that depend a great deal on how we have grown up and live. We all know that first-generation Americans, on average, are taller than their immigrant parents and that men who do physical labor, on average, are stronger than male college professors. But we forget to look for the obvious reasons for differences when confronted with assertions like âMen are stronger than women.â We should be asking: âWhich men?â and âWhat do they do?â There may be biologically based average differences between women and men, but these are interwoven with a host of social differences from which we cannot disentangle them.â
â Ruth Hubbard, âThe Political Nature of âHuman Natureââ (via gothhabiba)
Yes.
Here, have a study (x) showing that mothers underestimate their daughterâs physical capacity from as young as 11 months old (though in reality itâs identical to that of their sonâs at the same age). And if you think that parents acting on those expectations wonât alter their childrenâs development, then I have a sloped bridge to sell you.

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I want to apologise to
- Britney for making fun of her when she had her breakdown
- Monica Lewinski for judging her when she was a 22year old temp sexually assaulted by the most powerful man in the world
- Ke$ha for ever thinking she was trashy when all she wanted to do was make party music
- Kristen Stewart for ever thinking she was dumb when sheâs actually one of the coolest people ever
- Megan Fox for ever thinking she was just a slut when actually she was an actress being harassed by her employer.Â
- Hating all the women who made a career out of having a hot body. Being is shape is hard, beauty is a weapon and auto promotion is hard work.Â
- All the Mary-Sues, who exist because young girls everywhere want to be part of a story they love so much
- All the female characters I ever snobbed because they got in the way of my ship.
- Hating the color pink during my teenage years, when itâs actually a lovely color and what I resented was societyâs pressure to perform femininity.Â
Pretty well sums up the autistic experience lol. Â