Reblog To Give The Person You Rb’d This From A Hot Chocolate With Whipped Cream And Marshmallows

thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.

people with siblings love saying shit like "you never played first degree murder knife chase?"

This is important

(please Reblog for a bigger sample size)

(only if you want two)

there is no guarantee the trinkets are not cursed. choose at your own risk. reblog to keep the trinket shop traveling.

I know it’s not hard to point out reactionaries hypocrisy when it comes to like safe spaces or hug boxes or whatever but genuinely how much of an echo chamber do you have to exist in for you to think this is a reasonable thing to say

the urge to screech is mighty, but the social anxiety says no.

fuck romeo and juliet.

if i'm dying because my heart just stops, i want someone who will crack open my heart and manually force it to start beating with their bare hands.

sweet dreams!!! even if you aren't going to bed right now, this is a preemptive cast, you will have sweet dreams later

so embarrassing when i forget im checking someone's blog and i start scrolling through and liking and reblogging shit as if it's just my dash. it feels like wandering into someone else's apartment and not noticing and making myself lunch