It's 5:30 AM And Someone Took Away My Favorite Pillow, The Only Which Is Comfortable And Suits My Neck

sometimes I can tell when an episode is going to hit me y'know? my chest sinks and my head feels like all the air's been drained out of it, like till now it's been filled with water and feeling as such, but then when an episode is about to hit me or when I feel it coming, that water just flows out. and my throat feels cloggy and my tummy/chest area feels weird. Nowadays I can distract myself before it hits because I've numbed myself down so much and I've suppressed myself to much that I can swish it away or press it down so that I can prevent one, but then I just go back to feeling lonely or empty or whatever. and yeah, that's bad too

I feel like I don't have much of a relationship with my mom anymore. She's alwaysss, alwayssss busy with her MA Psych classes - morning, afternoon and night, and when she does come out of the room, the only thing she talks about is this leg pain she has and how this massage thingy is so good, with my grandma. She doesn't listen to me when I talk, she doesn't want to hear anything I say, but somehow she thinks she can come and scold me and repeat the things my grandparents tell me to do when she gets the time 😒 when all she does the whole day is stuff related to her class.

And what made me the most upset today was the fact that she said my kitten would die if it ate kitten food rn because it's too small and won't be able to digest it when I was talking to my GRANDMA. She never listens when I freak out about my kitten, never proactively asks about it or gives it any attention - atleast as far as I know, she claims that she gives it attention in the morning and I don't see cause I'm sleeping, but whatever. I dunno, maybe it's super petty and childish, but I feel unwanted.

I'm walking around the house braless and my grandma was whining about it and I asked her - in a very jokey/teesy tone - why she had a problem with it when I didn't, and that it was my body anyway, she was like I don't like you staying here, what about that then - what will you say to that. And I'm so fucking angry and upset and so, so done. I hate adults. I hate adults. I hate adults. They're insensitive, cruel and self centered.

I'm collecting mental illnesses like people collect Pokémon 🤡

S*icide "joke" / "not joke" -

People : Mental health and mental illness and ND awareness blah blah blah

People : Suicide is not the answer

Also people : How are you going to survive in this world if *lists and complains about various symptoms neurodivergent people/pw mental illnesses have* [hence - suicidal ideation. like??????? the math is so simple?????? which part do you not get?????]

Also people : We can't give you concessions cause we're all going through tough times and it would be unfair, so suck it up

||

If you want ND people and pw mental illnesses to live, then make the world a livable place for us. suicide is not the answer, I absolutely agree. but neither is enforcing norms and standards which are exclusionary and HARMFUL in nature and on top of that not giving concessions or being understanding. you can't have both.

Trying so hard to be a person who accepts other people's (difference in) pov without feeling ehem, but don't think it's for me 😳🥺😖

But like always, Imma fake it till I make it or else I'll have no friends hahahahaha

The day I learnt how to check my pulse, I felt like I was holding my life in my own hand. It took me a long time to find that accurate spot, but once I did, I just couldn't understand how people refrained from checking their pulse all the time. It was evidence that I was alive, that no matter how I felt inside, my body was alive, that it was kicking, and it felt nothing short of a miracle. There seemed to be a certain kind of beauty in having the ability to feel my own heartbeat, in having a part of my heart extending to my wrist - so much so that it took my breath away, made it skip a beat.

I think I understand it better now - why people advise us against wearing our heart on our sleeve. When that very heart on our sleeve is an indication of our existence; when that very heart on our sleeve is the indication of whether we are living; when that pulse we feel is proof of survival - baring that to danger, to vulnerability, to scrutiny, may very well be an invitation to pain, to death. It is a direct route to our softest spot, an easy access to our precious safe. Who in their right mind would make themselves defenceless to threat of exposure?

After all, Achilles never went around flaunting his heel.

Pride 🌈

I've discovered what beauty truly is -

Beauty isn't sparkly eyes or plump lips

It's not perfect curves or sexy dips

It's not sharp collarbones or the moonlight on glowing skin,

Beauty is green grass in the form of glittery tutus

Beauty is the night sky in the form of a gold- black saree draped with attitude

It is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, glowing like your smile, splitting your face in two

It is the vast ocean in the form of fishnet stockings and face paint on you.

Beauty is an aurora spilling across the black sky, beauty is the plethora of hues

Beauty is a loud cry, sometimes a gentle tune

Beauty is rough, beauty is crass

Beauty is leather jacket and no shoes

Beauty is suspenders and a skirt, beauty is contradiction like the icy fire and the liquid earth.

Beauty is the body, both covered and nude

Beauty is resilience, beauty is revolt

Beauty is a whisper, beauty is a shout

Beauty is poetry, beauty is the way you move

Beauty is art is you.

I've discovered where beauty truly lies -

In the seven sins that'll guide you to hell, there lies beauty, slowly being fed.

There's beauty in your vessel, there's beauty in your essence, there's beauty in the revolution and the people that it represents

There is beauty in your stride, there is beauty in your fight

There is beauty in this community,

But most importantly, there's beauty in our

Pride.

both Harry and Louis have BPD; no, you cannot change my mind. yes, you can fight me.

My maternal grandma and I were talking about large age gaps in relationships and the importance of sex education, especially for women and I was ranting about all this to her.

My mom and my grandma never had proper sex education. So whatever they learned, they had to learn from their older, much more educated husbands. And no matter how much a good person your husband is, in such a situation, there will be some amount of grooming/manipulation involved - consciously or unconsciously. They'll teach their wives things they like, they'll only impart limited knowledge - they can only teach another person things they know, so if they don't know anything about women's pleasure, they won't know how to tell their wives either. And purposely or not, they might only teach their wives things they like - so a woman believes that these are things they *have* to do while having sex, things they *have* to do in a marriage to make their husbands happy and they could live their whole life not knowing what they like/want. It's so easy for husbands to take advantage of their wives. Even if it's in a tiny way, still. And they might not give them proper sex education, sex education from an "objective" perspective. Moreover, if the husband is conservative and believes in sex only for procreation, they won't even try to make their wives feel good and their wives wouldn't know any better!

But this same man may have gone through pronographic magazines or whatever when he was younger, he may already know about male pleasure. He might have already explored his likes and dislikes, but his wife never got that chance, and now she never will.

It's all so fucking messed up.

My grandma agreed with me tho, completely.