I Feel Seen - Tumblr Posts
would you guys be mad at me if i said i liked munkustrap in the 2019 movie
Is everyone else also just a byproduct of their constant need to replicate their favorite fictional characters' personalities even though all of them clash terribly so you have no idea who you are or how you're even percieved at this point or is that just me
Anxious Attachment Style signs:
3. You tend to crave closeness more quickly than others, which means you often feel rejected when people don’t return your enthusiasm about the relationship at the same level and pace.
(i must be a joke to so many people)
6. Growing up, you knew you were taken care of and loved, but you also felt like your needs weren’t totally being met either.
(four brothers. two sisters. hello)
10. You honestly believe you are the least important person in your life, and you are desperate to matter to someone.
(if i really mattered: i wouldn't be without steady income and i would be able to live on my own. i would have a true support system holding me up. i would not be posting shit like this on tumblr)
I got casually masculine.
So this was fun and actually pretty accurate? I got “Casually feminine”
This.... This was too accurate
try my quiz!
some of y'all need to realise if you want someone with a big booty, and big ol' tiddies, they gonna have some belly 🖤
shoutout to all the transmascs, butches, enbies, and gender nonconformists who are too small to shop in the men’s department. you are valid and the struggle is real
reminder to:
straighten your back
go pee goddAMN IT STOP HOLDING IT
go take your meds if you need to
drink some water
go get a snack if you havent eaten in a while
maybe wander around the house/stretch a little if you’ve been sat at the computer a while (artists especially: sTRETCH THOSE WRISTS)
reply to that text/message from earlier you’d forgotten about
maybe send a nice lil message to someone having a bad day?
you have seen, many times, the phrase love your body! and every time, like rainwater, it glides off you. not because you cannot love it - you mostly, like, tolerate it - but because of the word "your".
is this your body? when you were 11 you had to start shaving your legs because other girls found it gross you were hairy. when you were 12, you had to stop wearing v-necks because of your chest - people were staring. your mother didn't let you dye your hair. your first boyfriend makes you dress up in skimpy clothes for him, then hated when other people coveted you. what you wear and how you present determine whether or not people find you funny or annoying or arrogant. other people get to determine if you are pretty, a court of opinion so loud it blots any good intent.
when is the body yours? magazines and instagram and tiktok endlessly advising you to "take care of" (starve) your body as if it is a weed. you must hack and slash at it, defend yourself from its wanton desires. it is a shameful, greedy thing. it is more like an art piece. you are keeping it or being kept-in-it.
you try to language it to your therapist - it's not that you don't recognize yourself in the mirror, it's more just that the thing that is in the mirror - it isn't you. that's why it's so easy to take apart: you're vaguely aware of the shape, but it feels like you are an animal hiding in the back of this cavern, snarling.
obviously you're like stuck in it. it often hurts a lot, buzzes with pain and a strange numbness. so it is your body when it's painful. that makes sense. otherwise - how many times have you been told to save yourself (your body) for marriage. for someone else. you are just borrowing it.
love your body! is so funny. somehow, without meaning to, the phrase reminds you - it isn't you. you're just inside it.
addicted to saying "ill definitely check that out" about things that i will definitely forget to check out
Copia is definitely a maladaptive day dreamer. He didn’t really have any friends as a child so he spent hours upon hours day dreaming and still does it even as an adult, especially when he’s stressed!
THE OTHER WOMAN
witch of the night steeps chamomile tea & flavors it with the salt of her tears. there is something to be said here, but who would listen? when she speaks all you'll hear is the creak of an old house, a ghost in the hallway, a shadow in the dark. always, always taking up more space than she's supposed to.
witch of the night stays on call with a boy half-past midnight because he tells her he likes her voice. he does not know he cannot rename her something holy. she lets him try anyway. how awful, to be monstrous by nature, to let this sickly-yellow desire fester in her chest like an open wound.
ask her about love & she'll tell you about sifting through scraps like a scavenger on hunt—though the corpse may as well be her own.
its nice to know that Max Verstappen has also scratched his car against a wall
im a simple girl.. i see book, i buy book, i let book sit on my shelf for months unread