One Joy Of Having Older Brothers!

One joy of having older brothers!

Try and bully me in school? Come meet my older brother.

Wow so this happened way back. I’m talking almost 10 years ago when I was 13/14. Long story short, this boy in my year showed interest in me, he was this loud mouthed, cocky, obnoxious arsehole and I was quiet asf. It took me a long time to even pick up on the fact that he fancied me, and when I realized, I knew I didn’t find him attractive in any way.

So, it seemed he picked up on this, and instantly turned from showing interest, to being an absolute, 100% bully towards me. Picking up on how quiet he was, for months he ripped into the way I dressed (early teens goth phase ftw), that I was stupid, and it eventually got into darker territory.

(long story short, he picked up on the fact that I self harmed and mocked me badly about it, getting his follower, spinless mates to join in. Trying to pull my sleeves up during class etc. Rough time.)

Anyway, I never thought about the fact that I have two older, HUGE brothers. I never told anyone about this issue, let alone them. Deep down I knew they’d throttle the scrawny fuck, so maybe that’s why.

Well, one day, months into this daily shit, my second oldest brother visited from uni, picked me up and drove me around, catching up. He used to go to my school but left just as I began. He asked what was up, noticed I seemed quiet than usual. I broke down slightly mentioning about this arsehole I was dealing with. Kind of gave him the light version, as not to anger him too much.

…Too late.

My brother was silent, and just nodded. He said, “I’ll take care of it.” and we enjoyed the rest of the day as if nothing happened, I felt comforted.

That night, my bro says, “Ha, guess who I had a talk with on the phone?” Turns out, he somehow found the boy’s home number. He called him up, threatened to break his jaw. The scared little rat started to get ballsey, shouting back in his barely-broken voice. He even tried to make fun of my brother for having a prothestic leg, he must’ve heard about it through school. (something that’s never held him back or even bothered him for a second.)

Did I mention my brother was/is a gym freak? Despite his prosthetic, he was huge. Very largely built, big beard, aggressive-looking, the lot. Bully had never actually seen him before.

So, the next day, brother says, “Forget the bus, I’ll drive you into school, we’ll get a Mcdonalds on the way.” (he was very good to me)

We drive up, and he jumps out as he spots his old gym teacher. I’m standing beside them both as they catch up over old time’s sake. Two HUGE guys, arms folded, chatting away. As I’m standing next to my bro, who walks out from the bus?

The scrawny little loud mouth fuck. He struts down the path toward school, sees me and smirks. His eyes then lifts towards my brother and I see him skip in his step, his eyes bulging with fucking shit-scared fear when he realizes that this was the dude he tried to shit-talk on the phone.

I remember smiling at the boy, feeling my eyes glistening with glee. I lifted my arm to tap my brother’s shoulder, and I saw the boy pause in actual fear.

I let my brother know I’m heading in now, he gives me a gentle shoulder punch and tells me to have a good day.

That split second of pure dread and terror on that little cunt’s face was more than enough for me. If i’d let my brother know who he was, there’d be chaos. He’d have actually had him up against the wall by the scruff, no doubt. And I didn’t want my brother in trouble.

Since that day…he stayed the ever loving fuck away from me. No eye contact, head down to the ground. Beautiful.

Love ya’, bro. (source)

There are only 2 genders

Please people thee are only two genders…. I can’t believe that Tumblr is allowed to exist and make up all these ridiculous identities and not have all its users in mental health facilities.

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dramatic-n-crazy

7 years ago

“Hey man, take my picture!”

“I can’t do it. It’s too dark.”

“Yeah, we need some light. Let’s go over there.”

“Are you homeless?”

“Yes, I am.”

“How long have you been homeless?”

“15 years. I’ve been in Boston 8 months. Before that I was in Washington, Virginia, New York, Philadelphia, Louisiana, Florida…”

“Why didn’t you stay in Florida? It’s so much warmer.”

“I wanted to see my family. But they don’t want to see me. They don’t understand depression. They treat me like dirt. Homeless people treat me better than my family.”

“And what happened 15 years ago? How did you end up on the streets?”

“I tried to burn myself twice. I had 30 surgeries. I was dead two times, but God brought me back. I don’t know why.”

“And why did you do it?”

“I was depressed. Why you crying?”

“Because you are a beautiful person, and my family is really messed up, and I’ve been very depressed. I think I can understand you.”

“Yes, I am a good person. And when you take people’s pictures, don’t disrespect them.”

“No, man, I won’t. I like people. That’s why I take their pictures.”

“And when you make your portfolio, don’t denigrate people. Let the pictures speak for themselves.”

“I will. Are you safe on the streets?”

“Yes, I am…And now I have $8 to buy me some food.”

“That’s all I have. Next time I see you, I will give you more.”

“No, man. It ain’t all about money. Give me a hug. And next time you see me, give me a hug again. And thanks for taking my picture.”

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dramatic-n-crazy

9 years ago

Don’t Fear the Reaper

By reddit user HarryDresdenWizard

I’ll say it right now, I grew up in a broken home. Dad drank. Mom drank. That might be why I’ve never touched a drop. But I’m getting on a tangent here.

Keep reading

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dramatic-n-crazy

9 years ago

There’s going to come a day when we’ve all grown up, had a career, maybe got married and had kids, when we’re all going about our daily routine. Maybe you’re driving to work with the car radio on, or you’re making dinner with the TV on. Life as usual. And then you hear a name. It’s the name of the person you had a blog dedicated to when you were 16. The person you had posters of up on your bedroom wall, or as your desktop background. The person off that show you used to watch every week, as soon as it came out, or that band you used to love. The person from the cast of a movie that changed your life, or the character who you scrolled through page after page of fan faction of. You haven’t heard that name in a long time, and it brings everything back. And then the name is followed by three words you never thought you’d hear: has passed away. And then you put down the potato peeler and lean back against your kitchen counter, or you pull over to the side of the road, and tears are streaming down your face. And all over the world, there are people who used to be just like you, with tears marking their cheeks and sobs forcing their way out of their throat, because they remember. Because fandoms never really die out. We never really move on. We never really forget.

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dramatic-n-crazy

8 years ago