In My Mind Somewhere There Is A Version Of Myself Dedicated To Screaming I Dont Want An Angry Man In

in my mind somewhere there is a version of myself dedicated to screaming “i don’t want an angry man in my house” 24 hours 7 days a week

and what if I said richard was nick and henry was his gatsby

I love ever after high, if you think about the implications of their universe for longer than three seconds it turns into psychological horror

to learn you can rest without being “lazy,” to learn you can be upset without being told you complain too much, to learn you can want things without being called “selfish,” to learn that people can raise their voices without yelling at you, to learn that mistakes don’t mean you aren’t trying. the world is an incredible place

sounds silly but. one of the greatest things ever as someone with a trauma background is learning that things aren't inherently as bad or as scary as I thought. it IS possible to assemble Ikea furniture without arguments. is IS possible to discuss boundaries without having something thrown at me for speaking out of turn. it IS possible to spend hours on end sharing your favourite things with your favourite people, and not get called annoying for it. the world is an incredible place

Reading Narnia all the way through for the first time and i came across this line in Dawn Treader. I don’t understand it but I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like crying for some reason.

The frustration of falling in love with a live performance of a piece of music, and then finding that you can't recapture that magic again to share it with someone else... You look for a recording of the piece to share, but the tempo is wrong, it's either too fast or too slow, the particular artistic decisions made by the director are different (Wrong! Surely if they'd heard it the way you did, they'd know there's clearly no other way to perform it!), the flavor of the voices is altogether different, and the acoustics of the very room are changed... And you realize that your experience of that piece was all a strange and wonderful alchemy that cannot be repeated. What a tragic but somehow beautiful thing.