Why Is You So Mean To Me?

see a therapist immediately

I actually used to hate it! Like, actually despise it! Yellow was too bright, too loud, discordant, unruly, and clashed with everything. Nothing like what I wanted in my life, nothing I wanted to be.

When I first moved away from home, everything I owned was black. Jet back. As black as I could get. Smooth, cool, sleek, discrete, calm, unassuming. Flexible, cohesive, agreeable black. Fashionable black.

I had a really, really bad time. Unrelated to the decor. It was my first year out of a toxic place I'd grown used to my whole life, my first year acknowledging a mental illness I'd believed to be normal, my first year fending for myself with very little money or sleep or companionship.

I'd grown up on instant white rice and unseasoned ground beef. One day I realized that everything I'd been raised on tasted like cardboard. While out on an assignment, I passed a tent with a woman selling spices, and bought myself some turmeric. I went home and tried making curry with it. It was so yellow.

Another time, my professor took us out to a modern art gallery. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but when we got there, the whole building had been painted bright sunshine yellow.

The artist's theme was "happiness".

What it is. How we make it. How to share it.

All bright, lovely yellow.

The house I grew up in was beige. The walls were white. The appliances were post 9/11 stainless steel. My job was to be quiet, compliant, presentable and agreeable.

Black goes with everything. Black is neutral. Black is quiet, reserved, elegant and mysterious.

Yellow is warm. Yellow does what it wants. Yellow tastes sweet and spicy and hot and cool, like a summer breeze, like sunflower petals, powdery like dust on a long dirt road and soothing like well-worn linen.

I still like the look of black. I like the look of most colors. But I like the way that Yellow makes me feel.

*screencap of a tiktok by @sarahinyellow featuring a lightskinned person sitting at their laptop with a bag of potato chips and a bottle of diet coke*

“diet culture will demonize any food that isn’t “clean” but EVERY food can have a benefit for you

Diet Coke is somehow the only thing that stops my migraines, and it reminds me of my best friend. Cape Cod potato chips are my go to salty snack and I live 10 minutes from the factory, so they make me feel cool.

Food is more than fuel. It’s memories and satisfaction and tradition and home and culture.

There’s nothing evil about that.”

[ID: cropped screenshot of the ao3 include filter, reading "Other tags to include:" with "*/James "Bucky" Barnes" selected. /end ID]

IT WORKS

Is this new???? I've been wanting wildcard relationship search for YEARS 😍😍😍

and I start the consultation already miserable as fuck and I give the kid some pen and paper so I can maybe communicate and see what's on his mind

and then I go WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND I KNOW THOSE MONSTERS

the mom looked at me as if her son and I belonged at the same satanic cult and that's why I knew the names of the demons in his head

so they decided to highkey just appoint all of them to my day and it took me almost a month to realize that the fact that I kept arriving and finding that all of today’s appointments were autistic children was Not A Coincidence 

anyway this one time there was a kid who was really into christianity but it was like, specifically angels 

so I’m trying to start up a conversation with him and I ask what he’s reading and he goes “do you know what a nephilim is”

and like for one hellish second my soul is suckerpunched out of my body and thrown straight into supernatural-fanfic-on-wattpad hell, and then I reassume control of my flesh prison, ignoring the mental edits of Dean and Castiel making out, and go “Aren’t those the guys who are half human and half angel?”

and the kid was so fucking happy but the mom was staring at me like ‘why are you privy to this bit of occult jesus lore’

and my heathen lesbian of a self just looks at her and goes 

someone: guess what happened

And most Irish people, if you ask them to move a stone from a fairy circle will immoveably, flatly respond with 'absolutely fucking not'.

everyone individually took a moment to specify that ghosts probably aren't REAL real. then weighed in on where and why.

for the record my position was that there's probably way more ghosts in hospitals because that's where people die horribly, but since you can only see ghosts in dark, solitary conditions, graveyards at night is where the majority of ghost sightings occur. hospitals are usually well lit and busy, so even if they're crammed with ghosts the living are too damn busy to see them. meanwhile if a cemetery has even one ghost that followed her corpse there from the hospital, she'll be spotted because that's where all the ghost hunters go to look.

this theory was received as extremely sensible, and a coworker drew the conclusion that that's why abandoned hospitals are even scarier than graveyards. once the place gets abandoned then you can tell how much ghosts got built up.

BARBIE