Brené Brown: THE WOMAN IN THE ARENA
i have my Christmas cards/presents ready
I think now is the time to reblog this.
THIS IS NOT OKAY.
this is not original, this is not funny. an INNOCENT PRE-TEEN GIRL accidentally sent a photo to a wrong number and is now being mocked and harassed by many tumblr users, because someone had the audacity to post her mobile number and ENCOURAGE OTHERS TO HARASS HER.
THIS IS NOT OKAY.
i texted the poor girl letting her know what’s going on. “oh my god thank you so much honestly it’s really freaking me out! i accidentally sent it to the wrong number and i’ve gotten weird texts from a lot of numbers”. and then, “i just want it taken down or something like it was a mistake and i’m getting upset about it”.
by sending anything to this SCARED, PRE-TEEN GIRL, you are frightening her. you are upsetting her. she did not deserve this shit, and i am completely and utterly disgusted in the people on this website who have taken part in this. the post is gaining notes at an extremely rapid pace, and this poor girl deserves none of this. THIS IS NOT FUNNY. THIS IS NOT A HARMLESS JOKE. YOU ARE FRIGHTENING HER. YOU ARE HARASSING HER.
please take time to email firstname.lastname@example.org, asking them to take the post down. give them the link to the original post and let them know that THIS IS NOT OKAY. the original link can be found here: (her number isn’t blurred here but for the love of god DO NOT SEND HER ANYTHING) http://spoopyscarytitans.tumblr.com/post/69332088172/so-this-random-girl-i-dont-know-sent-me-a-picture
Jaime and Vic for an interview in which they had to stand on a piece of paper, and for each question they answered incorrectly they had to fold the paper in half. [video]
Last night I thought I kissed the loneliness from out your belly button. I thought I did, but later you sat up, all bones and restless hands, and told me there is a knot in your body that I cannot undo. I never know what to say to these things. “It’s okay.” “Come back to bed.” “Please don’t go away again.” Sometimes you are gone for days at a time and it is all I can do not to call the police, file a missing person’s report, even though you are right there, still sleeping next to me in bed. But your eyes are like an empty house in winter: lights left on to scare away intruders. Except in this case I am the intruder and you are already locked up so tight that no one could possibly jimmy their way in. Last night I thought I gave you a reason not to be so sad when I held your body like a high note and we both trembled from the effort.
Some people, though, are sad against all reason, all sensibility, all love. I know better now. I know what to say to the things you admit to me in the dark, all bones and restless hands. “It’s okay.” “You can stay in bed.” “Please come back to me again.
the fact that there are animals who can see colors that i cant which means that there are colors that exist that it is literally impossible for me to envision is such fucking bullshit that i wanna rip open a couch and eat it
im thankful for punk rock and mashed potatoes