you should be able to take things out of other people's trolleys at the supermarket if you like the look of their stuff. they haven't paid for it. they have no claim to it
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@sunshinechld
you should be able to take things out of other people's trolleys at the supermarket if you like the look of their stuff. they haven't paid for it. they have no claim to it

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society if women were seen as people
What they don’t tell you about prolonged periods of introspection and careful observation is the harm that can come from being totally alone in that process, with no one to remind you that feeling, learning, watching, and healing are communal. When lonesome thought is fetishized, you feel obligated to suffer in silence, to see all struggles as individual rather than collective. You tell yourself that maybe you’re just growing apart from things you thought you knew, that you’re not doing healing right, and this must mean you’re just inadequate. And at some point, you obsess over this cultivated lifestyle of being quiet, small, and invisible as a means of personal protection that you feel forgotten about and in the end, you have no one but yourself to blame.
Sometimes I wish I could speak and write like I used to. But the more I see and interpret, the less I speak because I become increasingly aware of my own mental boundaries as well as the structural limitations I didn’t want to know existed. And the less I speak, the more I simply think myself into non-existence – or at least, what feels the closest to thinking but not really living.
What does it mean to be seen without desiring all of the accompanying narcissism that attaches itself to forms of recognition? I’ve been thinking and re-thinking the politics of recognition for almost exactly half of a year. Recognition is something so paradoxical to me, and thinking about it is bound to drive you to a point in your mental health where any mention of soap-bathing, bubble-blowing “self-care” rituals make you want to disappear a little more with each passing day. I wonder what it does to a person to ponder alienation in alienation for this long, in addition to all of the recognition rituals that compensate for it. My heart hurts just trying to wrap my mind around that.
I grabbed coffee with a friend I admire so much yesterday, and I asked her if she was feeling this way, too. She said something I knew to be true, but so desperately needed to hear and be reassured by: “Everyone is feeling this way. This feeling is political, not just personal. It permeates daily life and it’s only getting worse and worse.” And I can feel it all the way from Egypt to the United States, the two places I keep escaping for each other only to find myself retreating again for the other. The current global crisis in capital that is building up is wreaking havoc on so many of us in the most insidious ways imaginable. But even attempting to communicate this is difficult and frightening because alienation is so often strategically pathologized, misdiagnosed as “depression”, and written off as individual suffering. And so, we all suffer in silence.

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Honestly, people generally don't want much... They want to eat their favorite food. They want to go to the seaside and smell the fresh air. They want to nap on the grass and listen to music. They want to hold their loved ones in their arms, and be held in return. They want warm clothes, be occupied with a profession/a hobby that does not smother them. They want to feel safe and unafraid. Mostly, they want to live without being ridiculed, manipulated or being forced. And this is why capitalism/modern life overall is so upsetting, depressing and even destructive. Because thinking about how small and simple things you yearn for & how hard it is to even be able to have them really wears you off
“Give people what they need: food, medicine, clean air, pure water, trees and grass, pleasant homes to live in, some hours of work, more hours of leisure. Don’t ask who deserves it. Every human being deserves it.”
Howard Zinn, Marx in Soho
this is making me delirious. I want to cry every time I read this
The knights riding past the peasants on horseback
actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty then to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do.

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i want to go home. i will always want to go home. even when i am at home i want to go home. but i’m not really thinking of a place, it’s more that feeling of everything finally being over, of seeing the light in the windows of your house on a cold night, of being safe, the relief of leaving a party you’re not enjoying, like when you felt sick at school and they sent you home, or when you got upset at a sleepover and they called your parents. i want my mam to come get me. i want to go home.
elizabeth wurtzel, prozac nation // lorde, ribs // maggie stiefvater, the dream thieves // billie marten, red sea blue sea
ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID????? Kindest regards,
drinking hot coffee out of clear cups is weird. hide that drink.give it a house.

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unwelcome reminders