Suffering - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
Wage slavery is weird.
Moreover it sucks, obv, but like, why aren't more people talking about this?
Went to work today and the general manager says to all of us, "yall this store is making so much money omg, make sure to give yourselves a pat on the back !!"
And am i the only one who thinks that's strange? Like ma'am this is a grocery store, none of us are ever going to see that much money, why should we care? Why should we be proud of that? It just seems insulting to rub that in the face of wage employees. I would think that they would try and avoid talking about it to keep peoples mind off of the money they would never have, but it's jist the opposite.
When i first started this job they had sat me down to talk. They showed me some jpegs of the CEO, and 2 other people at that corperate level. I'm never going to meet these rich white dudes why are we even doing this? Management then went on to tell me the average gross revenue for the store, as if that matters to me, and management talking about that in a training setting i understood. What i didnt expect was my fellow unsaleried wage workers to be talking to me about it. Talking about how much money the store makes, how smart the CEOs must be to make all that money.
I dissociate though work for a few reasons, but this is always something that pulls me back a bit. Just being reminded, yet again, of how much money some other people have, and how much i dont fucking care.
Nobody gets context, happy pride month
Been awhile sense I drew Cirtri in her "cannon" design and it's funny that all these years I have kept to the note that she dosn't emote
You think attention is love and that’s why you suffer so deeply.
repression, and the guilt it causes when you're not with me - an annie x reader drabble
Feelings are easily ignored one would think, especially if the aggravator is locked away in a stone made of clear crystal. When you can see her but not touch her, talk to her but get no reply, overthinking sets in and guilt surrounding your relationship with Annie is embedded to to bone.
The stone floors all look the same. From room to room, the bumps and lines are all in the exact same place. Dents and crevasses paint a marble of patterns on the walls, almost identical to the room next to it, and the one opposite. Even if we move into a different room, they all look the same. The beaten, worn stone turns more battered the more you’re in the room. Like your mere presence is enough to make stone regret and cave into itself. Like your mere presence causes confident stone to pull away and retreat into dirt.
The guard that frequents this room pays attention to more than just her stone. She hears, she listens. Every word spoken is captured by the guard’s ear. She knows everything, she sees it too. Their watchful eyes burn into your back when you visit her. You can’t say more than simple ‘hellos’ and ‘I’ve been good’. Their sorrow glares and the glances full of regret and shame. Every movement shows what you really are. Every shift, every stance - it gives you away. Shows your true self to them and they can’t help but look away, filled with disgust. They ought to have you removed from her care.
All of the lingering feelings. All of the thoughts about her that never leave no matter how much you focus on other things. It all leads back to her. Your stupid Annie. So, you vowed to leave them in this room. You vowed to not think about her unless you were with her. You vowed to not smell her hair, to hear her laugh, to say her name. Unless you were with her.
Her lifeless expression seen under the stone never wavered. Her face never moved, not an inch. Her shoulders tense and her legs stiff. For even she knows what you are. You never hid it with her. Despite her mundane choice of words and her nonchalant attitude, the shame and guilt vanished in the moments you were with her. Those perpetual, repulsive thoughts seemingly disappeared when you were with her. She let you get it all out, “Repressing feelings is never a good thing”, she would say, to try and coax more feelings out of you. It’s ironic now. All that talk about being free and letting go, and she went and suppressed herself inside a stone. One that can’t be broken. At least she’s free from all of your guilt.
But the guilt and shame hunts you down. The knowledge of your moments together, all your hushed sighs and the rustled bed sheets, always found you. Like a poltergeist with a nasty attachment to you. It pushed doors open, the creaks reminding you of the bed bouncing. It opens windows and the wind blowing in howls like a subtle moan. You’ll never escape it.
And everyone knows. They see it clear as day. They whisper about you in the dining hall. They gossip and glare as you walk past, heading for the cold, dark room. Where else would you be? No other room holds your heart inside it. You follow the everlasting hallways to her room. The abstract patterns in the stone ways start to bend and form words. Even the walls know. They’ve seen everything. Every touch, every fuck, and every stare, even those not reciprocated. The words etched into the walls bore back at you. They scream, they holler, they shout. They’ve seen the guilt and heard every repressed thought of her. No act of reconciliation goes unnoticed. Every attempt to get her out of that god forsaken stone.
You come to the door, but it’s broken open, hinges barely holding onto the wall. The room sits empty, no guard to listen in on all your intimate and private moments with her. But where is she? Her stone lays shattered across the floor. The pieces scattered everywhere and the stone concrete floors are drenched in wet slime. The feeling disgusts you, it’s all too familiar for you to handle. Yet, she’s gone. But you mustn't think of where she could be. She isn’t with you anymore, so you cannot think of her. You vowed not to.
Down the hall, in yet another dull, gray room, shouts emerge and thuds vibrate the floor. You don’t bother to deal with that issue. You’re too preoccupied with the dilemma you face currently. For you are forever guilty without her. The room that encompassed your safety has vanished. Those repulsive thoughts flood back to you, clouding every corner of your mind. The shame can finally hunt you down and finish the job off. Footsteps come chasing towards you. They grow louder and louder as they inch closer. Finally, you’ll meet your end and be set free. A life without her is not one worth living. The walls spill out all of your secrets. The people gossip and whisper. The guilt grows louder.
Every inch of the building shakes. The walls, the floor, the door - everything. It rattles and rumbles. The walls finally start to crumble and break. The dirt seeps from the corners and the beams start to fall from the ceiling and crash onto the floor. You back out of the room. All your secrets being left in that room, setting you free. Freedom finds you, not guilt. The room has fallen and all your tainted vows fall with it. It’s all destroyed. You’re free to think. About her. About it all. Free to think about every touch, every fuck, and every reciprocated stare. And the smell of her hair, her laugh, and her name, Annie.
You hope, you dream that you get to be with her. To finally be free of the shackles you put yourself in. that room is no more and neither are your perpetual, repulsive thoughts. Simple eye contact is all you need. All the remnants of shame, guilt, and fear have since left you. You touch, you hold, you feel. She grabs you and you feel weightless. Her arms wrap around your neck and you two collapse to the floor. Her existence is enough to make you feel free.
Just experienced the most horrible shower of my life and I’m writing it in green text formula bc it feels like the most accurate medium for this experience
>be me
>party boy
>just got home
>I want to shower
>Wanna be a clean boy
>couple minutes in
>shower curtain falls
>what
>try to put it back up
>shower still going
>forgot to turn it off
>suddenly too small?
>have to get dad to fix it
>start showering again
>water comes out in bursts and has five fun new flavors of temperature
>cold as death
>boiling
>is that lava
>you’re dead
>surface of the sun
>flush the toilet
>no longer spurting but still will kill you
>goes back to normal
>cycle repeats every few minutes
>adapt
>accidentally mix shampoo and conditioner (icky bad wrong schedule)
>finally finished
>water all over bathroom somehow
Every night my parents screw, in their room that is directly above mine, incredibly loudly. And my headphones just ✨died✨. Like not to be sex negative but I would deeply like to not hear that
3:22
do me a solid and just reblog this saying what time it is where you are and what you’re thinking about in the tags.
*after getting back to ithaca*
REAL penelope: jump in the water and kiss me♥️
Odysseus: you know I'm afraid of the water😰
Penny: no? Since whan?
Ody:
Ody: *starts crying cause trauma*
Ayy...its the guy we all know and uh...love! Bitch Boy!
You either love him, hate him, or want to take him out on a date (ALL YOU BALLOON BOY SIMPS, I KNOW YOUR FUCKING OUT THERE, HIDING.)
OH MY GOD ANOTHER FNAF OC 💀
I think I'm gonna make a fnaf security breach oc cuz I'm dying (currently working on it, don't know when it will get posted lol)