pebblesrus

i don't know what else to tell you except to be brave and to be kind. take it day by day. go outside and watch the clouds paint the sky. call a friend.

we are still here, and furious. you are still here, and that matters. you can still do and make and be something important. i promise. stay alive. it matters, and you matter. i know it is easy to succumb to anxiety and exhaustion and defeat.

communities can start with tiny ideas. google "dnd meeting near me" or whatever your interest might be. google "volunteering near me." google "support groups near me." start journalling. start a discord. start a book club.

when you close your eyes and hear hamlet, answer his prayer: it's better still to be.

Kind of obsessed that Somewhere Beyond the Sea is just the Baker-Parnassus children have a team meeting about how to save their family and the unanimous consensus is to gaslight gatekeep girlboss the fuck out of everyone for 400 hundred pages.

the bad news is that no feeling is final. the good news is that no feeling is final. hope this helps 

the sandman vol. 4: season of mists — neil gaiman

the sexy girlbots are returning. nature is healing

It's like when they reintroduced wolves to yellowstone

genuinely and honestly I know I cannot solve all of the problems of the world etc but my friends who live in my phone please know that when you are having the horrors I am telepathically sending you a bowl of warm soup, a mug of hot cocoa, a cozy blanket, and a hug (if you want one) with my brain

i think it is good to warn people in advance about the circumstances that will cause you to bite them and i think that having given that warning it is good to follow through when the time comes

the rattlesnake is an admirable creature whose virtues we should emulate

you examine yourself like studying a virus.

for days after, months - years, even - you torture yourself over small objects. times where you misspoke or interrupted with a joke when you should have listened. times when you didn't know how to show your support. times when you were louder, brassier, inappropriate for the situation. times when you were too quiet, shy, cold.

fucker. you constantly promise that next-time you'll do better. you will make sure every person you come in contact with leaves smiling. that they'll all feel loved and accepted and held. that you take care. other people do it! other people are actually good people; you're just cruel.

it feels like you are fighting a horrible little beetle. one of those parasites that control ants. one who comes up and wiggles into your brain and makes you a shameful ghost of a person. too spineless to ever be a demon. so what if you were having a bad day? you don't get to stumble. so what if you are overwhelmed? you don't need to make a scene.

all this time on the earth. you are still somehow convinced: the mistakes you make are more important than any other part of you. you still feel like you are wrestling a nature you do not understand; one that coils horribly inside of you. one that seeks to destroy, to undo.

you go home. you replay the moments where you weren't perfect. be better, you scold. do more. you are an accident. a train wreck. something to abhor.

the questions always ringing in your head: why did i do that? why do i slip? why can't i just fucking be normal? what if all i am is just ... this?

rip z-library u were the most important service on the internet

My sister puts glasses away upside down.

Because our mother does,

Because her mother did,

Because her mother lived through the Dust Bowl.

One day my father sat me down and told me about epigenetics.

How the trauma he went through

As a child in an abusive home

Wrote itself into his DNA

And, in turn, into mine.

How he and his brothers,

In various ways,

Are all sick from it.

How I might be too, someday,

And I’m not sure I’m not.

I hear people say,

When will we get back to normal?

And I think of a woman born in the twenty-first century

Who puts her glasses away differently

Because of what her great-grandmother endured

Ninety years before.

listen. aging into your thirties rocks. yes your joints get a little creaky. yes you can’t sleep in a pretzel on the floor anymore after a concert or a convention. and you lose some friends. but the thing is that you sort out who your real friends are and you sort out who you really are. and you get to see your friends settling into careers they like, and adopt new dogs and cats, and you find a job you can stand, and get really good at arts and crafts, and maybe that book you loved as a kid gets a movie deal and it doesn’t suck, and you learn to like new food and bake your own bread, and you realize that the great portfolio of self harm scars you all used to curate are going white with age and not updated, and half your friends are a different gender now and so much happier and maybe you are too, and you know who you are, and that it’s a journey and not a revelation. it’s a direction you’re headed, and you’re enjoying the trip.

reaching your 30′s rocks. and i’m hearing good things about what comes next, too.

i think parker sits on the counter while she watches eliot cook because a) she likes to be Tall and 2) eliot made a fuss the first time and then proceeded to always have space on the counter specifically for her to sit on despite sighing So Very Deeply every time she hops up there and iii) looking down at eliot when he’s looking up at her just hits different, especially because eliot in cooking mode is…he’s just nice to look at is all

nothing sexier than "find a way to get her out" "with WHAT" "you stole a Michaelangelo with tinfoil and chewing gum, FIGURE IT OUT"

Leverage as Onion Headlines.