THINKING ABOUT...

thinking about how when you experience a lot of shame in your formative years (indirectly, directly, as abuse or just as an extant part of your environment) it becomes really difficult to be perceived by other people in general. the mere concept of someone watching me do anything, whether it's a totally normal activity or something unfamiliar of embarrassing, whether I'm working in an excel spreadsheet or being horny on main, it just makes my skin crawl and my brain turn to static because I cannot convince myself that it's okay to be seen and experienced. because to exist is to be ashamed and embarrassed of myself, whether I'm failing at something or not, because my instinctive reaction to anyone commenting on ANYTHING I'm doing is to crawl into a hole and die. it's such a bizarre and dehumanizing feeling to just not be able to exist without constantly thinking about how you are being Perceived. ceaseless watcher give me a god damn break.

He confesses to you with a letter. 

The letter was something you weren’t really ever expecting and it took you three times to read over it to fully process what it was. What he was saying. 

For a moment you wondered why he just didn’t call you, or tell you how he felt in person, but then again a writing you a letter seemed like something he’d do. 

It was simple, not too long; about one page of neatly written words that held so much more meaning in them than any other letter you’ve read before. 

With each and every word you read your heart beat quickened until your heart was practically jumping out of your chest. 

What he’d written wasn’t completely out of the blue, the connection between you was strong and something more special than you’d felt with anyone in a long time. But still you found yourself more shocked at the confession. 

What stuck in your head the most was the very last line.

‘”I’ll wait for you, love. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

When you can finally think clearly again you waste no time in calling him, hands trembling as you find his contact. 

“Hello?”

“I don’t want you to wait.” You words are more rushed than you’d like them to be, barely giving him time to answer before you cut him off. 

“What?” You can hear the confusion lacing his voice when he speaks again. “Wait-”

“I got your letter.” You say almost breathlessly heart still pounding in your chest.

“Oh, you did?” He’s quiet for a moment and you can practically hear him tense through the phone. “And?”

“And I think you should come over.” 

Your response is quieter than everything you’ve said before and for some reason you feel nervous, like you aren’t holding his literal confession in your hands. 

“Want me to leave right now?”

“Yes, if you can I mean.” You stop yourself taking a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t think I can wait long enough for you to get my letter saying the same thing.” 

“Okay, I’ll be over soon.” Just like that the uncertainty in his voice was replaced by an audible smile, one you couldn’t wait to see.

AKAASHI, asahi, KITA, semi, ennoshita, sugawara

shinichiro’s confession to you was extremely rushed and he was speaking extremely fast. his friends had told him that somebody else was going to confess to you later that day and he decided that he was going to at least try asking you out. he was slightly annoyed when he found out that nobody was actually going to confess to you but nevertheless he was ecstatic that you actually agreed to go out with him.

daichi + suga in the haikyuu stage play (◡‿◡✿)

Baby megumi 😮‍💨

I'm really just smitten with baby megumi, and I know his papa is, too. he was probably born with a head of thick, black hair; downy soft with that smidgen of baby curl, a lock of which his mother presses between the pages of his baby book upon his first haircut. he's got bright, wondrous eyes that take in his world as if it's not the first time he's been here; he's got an air of bemused intelligence, keen and sharp and yet completely jaded in an old soul kind of way. he doesn't cry much. he's a good natured baby with a genuine smile that lights up his cherub face when his momma tickles his feet, and he sleeps through the night like a pro from a very young age. he plays with his hands a lot, the way babies do. focused on his tiny fists and the way his fingers unfurl and seem to get stuck in his mouth when he puts them in there. he's more likely to get upset when there's too much noise or other commotion. his favorite place to hang out is in the safety of his papa's arms.

he hits a lot of his milestones early- sitting up, walking, eating solid foods. it takes him a little longer than average to talk, but when he does, he's stringing together simple sentences and you have no doubt that he understands what the adults around him are saying.

i’m not religious but man. sometimes i can’t help but hope that there’s someone out there listening to me

i feel like all i do is watch people and notice all the beautiful things about them and try to understand them fully and no one does that for me … sometimes i feel like i’m just a mirror to reflect people back to themselves. a vessel for love and that’s it… i make everyone else into poetry and no one else sees me the way i see them it’s so depressing

by the way, being a good person doesn't mean you won't make mistakes. being a good person doesn't mean you won't let people down. that's all

Sophia Webster Paloma sandal