Latest Posts by lobotohmy - Page 4

unfortunately if you are an old friend of mine i will always care about you no matter what even if we haven't seen each other in forever because i still remember what you were like 7 years ago and i still remember how it felt to be young with you and i still have a lot of love for you in the back of my mind

the thing about having hope is that it is so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so difficult. but you have to do it anyway

sometimes i think the world is bad and everything is awful and then i read something nice that someone has written and it’s like… ok… maybe there is some joy in this stupid world… might fuck around and take pleasure in the little things…

wow this is too intimate to share with my close friends or family let me put this on my tumblr blog for hundreds of strangers to see

the idea that your friends won't like you if you're too weird is wrong for example one time I told a friend whenever I was losing my mind I laid down on the floor under my desk and stared at it until I was better and next time she visited me she taped a bag of salami snacks to the underside of my desk with a message saying "going insane all by yourself, handsome?" which I only saw months later when I had a breakdown. that's friendship.

“Don’t rub your eyes it leads to wrinkles and eye bags!!” you live in a world where you feel guilt over even the most microscopic of life’s pleasures and I will never want to join you there

The pain is more incredibly annoying than unbearable

don’t ask me how i know this but back in like 2017 when you used to search “depression” on tumblr it used to come up with a bunch of depressing shit (naturally) and triggering material but nowadays it comes up with inspirational quotes and stuff (as well as the hotlines that it has always done) which is pretty neat i think. good on you tumblr. helping us all through our healing eras fr

You tell a lot of people you love them..

That’s the point of living, dummy.

"why do you know that" i am curious about the world around me

He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer's- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. The only thing she remembered was her son's name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn't know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire

actually I'm having a lot of nerves about my top surgery in just a few days now but I'm coping with characters and jokes.

[ID: Hunter in a hospital bed smiling at the camera and holding up two fingers, Luz is excited and giving him two thumbs up next to him. Text reads "I don't have enough scars I'm getting 2 more" with emojis of two daggers, a party popper, a smiley with witch ears, and the healing sigil. end ID.]

honestly, why is the only language we have for sexual trauma that of rape and assault? there are so many kinds of sexual trauma that are done a genuine disservice by trying to grapple with them using the language of rape.

there's "i consented to this for self-destructive reasons," there's "i didn't know what i was consenting to because i didn't have enough experience to tell that i would be upset by this thing," there's "i initiated something that i now regret," there's dozens, even hundreds, of sexual situations that are traumatic and that need community support and care and some real trauma work to heal from, that just aren't accurately described by the language we have to discuss rape.

and like, trying to shoehorn them in under the umbrella of rape and assault often does a disservice to the victims trying to heal--trying to cast a sexual partner as a malicious perpetrator retroactively is often really psychologically damaging to someone who is experiencing a complex trauma around an experience they consented to, especially when the trauma victim themselves initiated the experience.

sorry for being so weird it's my first time being alive

sorry for slight inactivity today i was busy being AWESOME

ig: @bedbugz444

MY ART / DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION / DO NOT DELETE CAPTION / LOVE U

You couldn't have, you couldn't have stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody who loves you more, so I will wait for the next time you want me like a dog with a bird at your door.

this actually is rewiring my brain as we speak

just finished bojack horseman for the first time…

“Love him,” said Jacques, with vehemence, “love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters? And how long, at the best, can it last, since you are both men and still have everywhere to go? Only five minutes, I assure you, only five minutes, and most of that, hélas! in the dark. And if you think of them as dirty, then they will be dirty—they will be dirty because you will be giving nothing, you will be despising your flesh and his. But you can make your time together anything but dirty; you can give each other something which will make both of you better—forever—if you will not be ashamed, if you will only not play it safe.” (…) “Somebody,” said Jacques, “your father or mine, should have told us that not many people have ever died of love. But multitudes have perished, and are perishing every hour—and in the oddest places!—for the lack of it.”

- Giovanni’s Room, James Baldwin

u know. funeral phoebe bridgers made me insane for extremely obvious reasons but specifically “last night i passed out in my car and woke up in my childhood bed. wishing i was someone else feeling sorry for myself then i remember someones kid is dead.” bc its just. the terrible self-loathing of being affected by crises when those crises are happening to other people. im not dead. i feel terrible because someone is dead, but it isn’t me. how to epitomize the horrible in betweenness of young adulthood. stifled by the constructs of childhood but wishing desperately for the security of it. the concentricity of personal crises and coming of age. and at the end of the of it all, someone’s kid is dead. and someone’s kid will always be dead. 

Laughing like idiots in bed together is a love language

She Boris on my Johnson until I resign

Historians reading Homer’s Iliad:

achilles and patroclus

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