Have you ever read a story that spoke to you louder than any voice you’ve ever heard? Have you ever read a story that changed you? That saved you?
In times like this, I know it’s hard, but you have to keep sharing your stories. Write. Write happy endings, and write ones that are sad. Write of love, of hate, of overcoming adversity, and of falling to the evils of the world. Write something funny, and laugh at the horror out there until it has no strength; write something angry, and fight the horror tooth and nail until your knuckles are split and bloody, screaming until your throat is raw. Write of things that don’t exist, and write of things that do. Hell, write your two favorite characters from a tv show boinking, it doesn’t matter! Now, more than ever, words have power. Now, more than ever, the bastards out there will tell you that they don’t.
A single sentence can make a difference.
A single story can change the world.
Words are what turn the wheel of change. You just have to build it first, and give the damn thing a push.
You know how sometimes you see something at the exact moment you need it most? Thank you so much, @brianwfoster, for reminding me to keep up the fight, no matter how hard it may be.
Reblogging this from my main blog so you guys can see it.
Stop all that “you attract what you are ready for” shit. Sometimes life is just terrible. It’s not always my fault.
“Life never gives you more than you can handle.” Yes, it does.
“People are placed in your life to teach you a valuable lesson that helps your soul on its way to enlightenment.” No, there are a just a lot of people who feel empowered when they act like assholes. We live in that kind of society.
“You keep finding yourself in the same situation because you haven’t discovered the message the universe is trying to send to you yet.” Sometimes unpleasant things are stuck on repeat, because you have a mental or physical condition, and it is a symptom. Symptoms are like that.
“The truth always hurts.” No, it doesn’t, and what hurts often isn’t the truth, but is instead someone’s biased opinion.
I really appreciate this comment. Thank you thank you thank you.
“Hold yourself as though
there is iron running in your veins
like your bones are made of shark’s teeth
like you are run by mysteries and stardust (because there is,
they are,
you are,
and oh, darling
you are beloved of the universe that made room for you to be–
live like it.)”
You are born with the ability to see whether people listen more often to the angel or the devil on their shoulder, based on the opacity of each- if they listen more to the angel, it’s more solid and the demon is more transparent, and vice versa. You recently met a guy online and you’re finally going to meet. You go in for a handshake and glance at his shoulders, but you can’t see the angel. Only a solid demon.
Run. That’s my first thought and it keeps playing in my head over and over again. Run!
“You OK?” asks the man before me.
I realize I’ve been standing frozen, probably looking spooked. “Yes,” I fake what I hope is a convincing smile. I look back at his right shoulder, there’s nothing there, then to his left shoulder where a solid colored devil rests.
As he turns to our table I glance over the restaurant to make sure my powers are still working. There’s a woman one table away with a transparent devil and a translucent angel, she listens to the angel more. The woman across from her has a devil that’s translucent, she listens to it a little more than she should.
I’ve had this power my whole life, to see which side one listens to, but never before have I seen a completely solid devil, never before have I seen the angel completely gone…
Run!
Turning back to him I seen he’s pulled my chair out for me, watching me expectantly.
I could run now but what if he follows? Maybe it’s best I don’t tip him off, assuming I haven’t already, and sneak out while he’s not looking.
“Thank you,” I sit down.
He sits across from me and looks down, pulling on his long sleeves. “Order whatever you want,” he mumbles, “don’t pay attention to the price.”
“Oh, OK thank you.” I can barely pay attention to the menu. I glance over the restaurant, planning an escape route from the restroom.
“It was at 5:50,” he says, picking right up from where our last conversation online left off.
“I watched that video a dozen times and couldn’t see it.”
As we talk he seems just like the shy sweet boy I met online but then I glance at the devil on his shoulder and remember to be scared.
I’m looking at his shoulder so often that he glances back to see what I’m looking at. Worried about it I glance down and gape; on his arm a cut peeks out from under his sleeve.
He sees me seeing it and panics, pulling his sleeves down.
My gaze falls to the table and we sit there in silence.
This whole time I’ve been avoiding the people with the more solid devils because they listen to them more, I never questioned what the devils were saying. His devil isn’t telling him to hurt me, it’s telling him to hurt himself, that he’s worthless and doesn’t deserve me; and me acting scared of him isn’t helping.
“Don’t listen,” slips out before I’ve finished getting my thoughts together. I take in a long breath and speak slowly. “Don’t listen to the voice that tells you you’re useless, that you’ll never make a difference… You’ve made a huge difference to me.”
I risk looking up and see him teary eyed. “Thank you,” he whispers, and beside his head a barely visible angel fades back into existence.
Thank you so much for doing this prompt @hannahcbrown!
To all the amigos out there, know that you are loved ❤️
“good morning!” the bird says to you. “good morning!” the bird’s friend says to you. “good morning!” “good morning!” “good morning!” they are all so happy you are awake and alive!
i hate the trope of kids giving their favorite stuffed animal to a younger child as a sign of compassion and coming of age, as if this is something that should be expected of kids as they grow up
im 22 and i dont care who you are you’ll have to pry my ikea shark out of my cold dead hands
I can’t remember the name of the study, but there was a theory, supported by pretty good evidence, that if you have your comforter, be it blanket, plush, pacifier, whatever, taken away when you’re not ready to give it up, even if you’re a dinky little kid, it can have really long lasting effects. People who kept their comforters into adulthood were less likely to smoke, drink or do drugs, tended to have better family relations and home lives etc, while those that saw their comforter removed or destroyed were more likely to be drawn to more serious “comforts” elsewhere. The more extreme the removal, the more extreme the result. Typically.
We learn at our own pace to make and break connections and emotional ties, and the situation is forced upon us, we seek comfort. But whoa wait, you can’t possibly have comfort anymore, you’re five. You’re a big kid now.
So when parents are forcing you to “grow up” by tearing the only comfort in the world from you, they could actually be messing you up big time.
In psychology they’re called “transitional objects” and they help the neurobiological process of helping children learn to internalize the experience of being loved and cared for, which is an essential part of learning to regulate your emotions. They are REALLY important.
I wonder what it means psychologically that I’ve started getting a few more for myself?
Well, there’s a process we call “re-parenting yourself” where you give yourself the love you missed out on in childhood, and thereby start to heal the pain you’ve carried since then. And using childhood comfort objects can be part of that.
Oh..
Oh my god…
In the year of the lord 2018 our grown asses start healing.
This makes me feel less bad for being an adult that still sleeps with a teddy bear. My parents tease me about it but they never took any comfort items away from me.
Steel Phoenix Studios 