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Reblogged moggieteethh
less of a poem, more of a reminder. ( ఌ )
Reblogged
something law school taught me is that however suspicious you are that "oh, oops this law accidentally created a loophole that allows for bigotry by accident" is a lie, you are not suspicious enough.
anyone affected by such laws could tell you as much, but it really is something to read the actual law, the legislative history, public comment, etc and see just how much it was on purpose. it really makes me lose my patience with people pretending otherwise.
"oh this silly law says your house has to be blue in this neighborhood and sometimes Black people were accidentally kept from the neighborhood because blue paint was sometimes hard to come by"
and anyone with two braincells thinks, "yeah it probably was at least somewhat on purpose"
but then you find out the town made a law that it was illegal to sell blue paint to people of color and illegally buying blue paint was punishable by life in prison and the city ordinance about blue houses is called like the Keep Our Neighborhoods White--I Mean Blue Act of 1999. and the town had a weekly newspaper issue talking about how crime had gone up in the paint district so we need more police but also all the people of color are strangely homeless and homelessness means more crime so we need more police, but the police are overwhelmed so you can sign up to be a deputy looking for paint thieves called the Slave-Catching Renaissance Ordinance
and the only proposed "solution" so far is that selling blue paint is no longer illegal.
"It takes a long time to undo all of these things" mhm, either that's also a lie or do you not find it a condemnation of how the system works that it's so easy to install these laws that are blatant on its face bigotry (most often and blatantly racism) but near impossible to get rid of them?
This is probably why I’ve been told by people that I’d make a great lawyer. When you have massive trust issues, everything suspicious reeks of bullshit.
Happy birthday, Dad. I miss you every moment of every day.
I know now that the reason I spent so many years chasing approval from distant men is because I really wanted yours all along. You were out of my life for so many years, and even when you came back, sometimes at your worst you could make our relationship transactional. I never knew what it was like to have truly unconditional love, to feel it in my bones.
I wish you were still alive and could help me heal, so that maybe I could learn how it feels. I’m sure you’d tell me that you love me and that you’re proud of me. You were always more gentle with me than Mom.
Would you still love me if I was a boy? I don’t want to look like Mom anymore. I don’t want to see her staring back at me when I look in the mirror.
I love you.
Reblogged
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
Reblogged phantom-threaded
reblog to give your mutuals a djungelskog
Mature content
I feel like I’m backsliding. Self-validation and self-compassion are normally my bread and butter, but ever since that physical therapist appointment re-triggered my SA trauma, my inner monologue is one of constant derision, dismissal or judgement. The little one inside me has been completely silent. It feels like there’s some kind of block to going back, like it would just be too painful right now, but I’m miserable in this place, too.
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Mature content
My dream from the night of 12/4:
I saw a girl get shot at the top of a tall tower (I think a grain silo), and then my dream switched to a first-person view and I was the person who got shot. But I think I was a werewolf and the shot transformed me back into a human? Because there was talk after that of people shooting wolves when they think they’ll hurt their livestock.
Basically, I got shot in the liver and there was a delay in taking me to the hospital. I’m laying in a bed with white sheets next to an older man, in a dark white room with a projector light on the wall, while him and an older lady talked to me and seemed like they were trying to keep my spirits up. Idk where the hell this was, maybe a school or foster home? But I remember the older man making me feel very little and it gave me the feeling of wanting to be taken care of.
Somehow I wasn’t bleeding out everywhere and could get up and walk around after being taken to the hospital, but they did eventually hook me up to a blood bag. The hospital didn’t look like a normal one, with sterile white walls. I remember wooden walls, and rich red fabrics. I’m laying on my back on a canvas stretcher in a cramped room/hallway, with a bunch of other people on stretchers, but no one’s with me and I feel alone.
I guess I’m waiting to go back to surgery and I start to feel myself fading, staring at the wall in front of me. My mom walks in from a shadowy black entrance through the wall, and I see her start to cry as she looks at me. Before she got the chance to say anything, I woke up.
I think at that point my brain forced me awake because the idea of my mom in that scene was just too painful to think about.
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Reblogged
Bad chronic pain day. I guess I’ve been too stressed lately and now my pelvic floor has had enough bullshit and is biting back. Everything in my abdomen feels like it’s cramping—abdominal wall, guts, bladder. I keep getting waves of nausea and I just wish someone could hold me and take care of me right now.
Laid up in bed with a castor oil pack, heating pad, and blanket, I gaze out the window, half-dozing. My pain is interrupted by the sight of two squirrels fucking in a tree.
Bad chronic pain day. I guess I’ve been too stressed lately and now my pelvic floor has had enough bullshit and is biting back. Everything in my abdomen feels like it’s cramping—abdominal wall, guts, bladder. I keep getting waves of nausea and I just wish someone could hold me and take care of me right now.