Family - Tumblr Posts
He doesn't joke about his son! 🥺
Siblings
Don't you just love when your siblings are more valued than you? Earlier today, I spent 2 hours creating a sfx makeup look and my parents barely acknowledged my hard work and skill. What makes this better is that my brother spent 5 minutes on a drawing and got praised to no end and his work got sent to every one of my family members as they were so proud of him. I know his drawing was amazing but they didn't even say anything about my hard work. I've dealt with insecurities over my skills for my whole life and just hoped to get anywhere near as much praise he received. Reblog if something similar has happened with you and a sibling.
Life is good
I am 18 and up in my room , the sun is hitting my window just right, I got chamomile for my tired eyes and a big bottle of sparkling water. I worked out, my legs still a tiny bit sore , I smell like coconut because my mom gifted me a whole new bathroom set since is my favorite. I am studying philosophy for my last exam of the year, words of Locke and Kant in front of me eager to be understood. Mom and Dad are gardening downstairs, the jasmine is blooming and the apples are almost ripe, Sunday i am going to the big city with my friends,we will get summer dresses and snacks. Life is good and i truly hope it can stay like this. I truly hope everyone gets to be this happy.
Me and my Brother
I don't have a brother. I never had one, nor was I supposed to. If he had been born, I would not have come along....”One and done” says my mother. I don't blame her, one kid is enough is no shame, I like being an only child, I learned to play by myself, solitude grew with me in my bedroom walls.
And yet my brother is there, sometimes, not always, but sometimes is like I can feel him, the smell of his hair, how his shirt would feel against my cheek.
When i am alone, my parents working till night before Christmas, when I am struggling with homework, when I see a girl and her brother.
I long for him, maybe that's why I write about Brothers so much, the older ones are the ones that come out best. I give them every virtue, I made them bold and brave and smart, protective, confident. The flaws change, but the virtues are always the same.
I don't have a brother, never had one, nor I was supposed to, but if someone ask me about my brother I could tell them every detail.
He would be older, 4 years or so, he would be 23.
Since I am yellow and orange he would be green and lilac, we would fit like missing pieces.
I look like my father, like every first daughter. He would be my mother’s painting, like every good firstborn son.
Since I am history and literature, he would have been Art. His hands covered in watercolor, mine in paper cuts from the Latin dictionary.
I am a dumbo squid, so to make things fair, while I stay in the deps he would have been a bird flying high, unafraid, no needing pressure to stay alive.
I don't know if there is a reality we both exist in, I don't know how we would have made another bed fit in my room, but I know he would smell like pine tree like our father, have my same tendency to cry for books and curls behind his hears, just like our mom and me too.
I know he would steal my fancy perfume, because truly is a male perfume but it is just so nice, I know I would steal make him cake to convince him to illustrate my biology notes for me, I know he would do it even withouth cake.
My brother didn't make it, there was something wrong... Incompatible with life, something about his heart, I never press on it. It would make mom sad. And yet he is still here. My parents told me about him once and he never left my mind, not for to long at least, i can go months withouth thinking of him sure, but then the notion pops in, he appears, and is like a punch in the stomach,
I dont have a brother, never had one, nor i was supposed to but I do. If you are never born, can you truly die? Maybe that's why he is still here.
Brutus laid awake the night after he killed his father and wept
King Arthur let Mordred's broken body in his arms, he cradled him against his chest and let his son die safe and comforted,forgiven and understood.
My ancestors *watching me peal a mango and bite into it like an apple because I am too lazy to cut it* : Our daughter is eating the golden apple of the gods, from lands far away delivered to her hand by a fair lad, she prospers!
Parental issues suck, cause one minute they're awesome and you think that they're finally changing and the next you feel like you wanna unalive both them and yourself.
Greetings
Hi everyone! At first, I didn't intend on actually using the account to post anything but now I changed my mind and decided to make this my personal blog, so that way, I can post some things that's happening in my life and maybe have a chance to talk with anyone who have similar situations like me or anyone intesested. So, I'm Melody, and 17 years old and I'm an asian. And I'm gonna count today as my first day of blogging. I hope I get to talk with anyone.
So, I have a younger brother called william. As asians, since our mother language not being english, william and I were 'forced' to learn english by our somewhat strict asian parents. At first, I didn't very much enjoy it, but later on, I found myself enjoying learning it. The problem is william. He's not fond of studying, like at all. So, he only feels obligated to learn it, and slacking off. My parents are not having it. Every weekend, when william has english classes, they tend to throw tantrums. Seriously, it's affecting me and I can't take it. I'm really sensitive when it comes to family issues. What I think they 'should' do here is, instead of yelling, making a scene, comparing kids and stuffs, they 'really should' mame a stretagy plan on how to get him interested and actually start learning. Them throwing tantrums is seriously not helping at all. If it were me in his shoes, I simply wouldn't be ae to take it, the pressure is too much. I really hope they stop. I tried comforting them but they won't understand my point. So, I just can't help but hope they realise it sooner.
That's it for today. I have many other things or cases, but since today's the first day, I wanna keep it somewhat brief and not too much to take in for someone out there who actually reads this. I'm not sure if people will see this or even bother to read but still this blogging will be the only thing that keeps me sane during the crazy things that's happening in my life. Thank you! I wish whoever's reading a great day and happiness!
~Melody~
Ok so here is a thing in the wheeler family (my family), where if you try in any attempt to do any of the following: - cheat in a game - Steal our trucks or cars - Attempt to tick us off - break our loved possessions - Break any family hearts - Steal anything We will not hesitate to be vigilantes over your sorry little buns because this family here is brutal when it comes to trying to mess with us. A fair warning. ;)
Favourite place to relax 😍😍 @coffeeanddice has the best coffee, the best cakes, the most friendly helpful staff, and more than 650 board games to play! It's the most wonderful place in #boscombe 👍🏻 #coffee #family #dayout #bournemouth #games (at Coffee & Dice, Bournemouth's Board Game Cafe)
Ver "Winter Story 📕 Table setting idea, Gingerbread cookies, DIY Wreath chandelier, Slow living 🕯" en YouTube
Lo ϙᥙᥱ tɩᥱᥒᥱ ᥲꙆຕᥲ ⳽ɩᥱຕρɾᥱ ⳽ᥱɾᥲ́ ρᥲɾᥲ ຕɩ́, Ꙇᥲ ຕoᑯᥲ ᑯᥱꙆ ຕoຕᥱᥒto.
~~
What has a soul will always be for me, the fashion of the moment.
❦
Bon Appetit
©Alexandra Trujillo de Taylor
My mother’s sadness is an ocean above me.
It is a murky sea i walk into each morning,
A little bit of my body disappearing with every step,
Until i am unable to tell where i end and where this tsunami begins.
Now, i open my mouth
— just a little wider than yesterday —
And i force the saltwater down my throat.
My lungs expand, they burn
— just a little bit more than yesterday —
And the raging waves become slow tides.
They roll over me soothingly
As my body sinks to the sea floor once more.
Tomorrow, i wake up.
My mother’s ocean is no longer there.
Yet,
My lungs ache,
They throb,
As a saline flood pushes against them.
My lord,
Why do you do this?
Why must i burn in the flames of my fathers sins,
While he stands by my ashes
And prays for more light.
I am 10. I ask my dad to write down his letters on a piece of paper I thrust into his face. He looks at me oddly, he complies. I am 10. And my hands ache and my fingers are sore, and the page has torn and ripped, yet I continue. My pencil has started to shake, it's lead has long blunted, and a fresh shaving of graphite covers the faded one beneath it, the once sharp curve of the 'B' disappearing under the layers atop it. I am 10. And I wish my dad shared more than just blood with me.