africanamericanfootball said: Would you trust anybody whose last name is another word for fart?
Poots even looks like the human embodiment of a fart.
A, 21. Queer disabled Irish intersectional combabe who likes smashing things and misandry.
2014 has got to be about surviving, if nothing else.
“Let me tell you what I do know: I am more than one thing, and not all of those things are good. The truth is complicated. It’s two-toned, multi-vocal, bittersweet. I used to think that if I dug deep enough to discover something sad and ugly, I’d know it was something true. Now I’m trying to dig deeper. I didn’t want to write these pages until there were no hard feelings, no sharp ones. I do not have that luxury. I am sad and angry and I want everyone to be alive again. I want more landmarks, less landmines. I want to be grateful but I’m having a hard time with it.”
— Richard Siken
So today I bought three dresses for not very much money, saw my mum and my sister and didn’t want to cry in the changing rooms. This is progress.
Posting on my phone so can’t put it under a read more, but usual content warnings for mental health & suicide.
So I didn’t go to the conference this week. And instead I stayed at home and did work and didn’t try to top myself and didn’t hurt myself, and I’ve just realised it’s been one of those weeks where I haven’t had a face to face conversation in days.
I’ve been taking my medication properly at night which means that I’m very sedated during the day. But my anxiety needs it.
I am tired and exhausted but I am seeing the love of my life tomorrow for a few days and that has to be something, at least.