He Is Not The Sun. You Are.

the mcu is the “the curtains are just blue” of cinematic experiences

You see,  this is my issue with parents who don’t give their kids privacy as well. They are the same ones who are like “This is my house, I pay the bills. You can do whatever you want when you start paying your own bills in your own house.” 

sigh

You’re not creating space for you’re child to grow. You’re just restricting and preventing their growth. 

“I had a room to myself as a kid, but my mother was always quick to point out that it wasn’t my room, it was her room and I was merely permitted to occupy it. Her point, of course, was that my parents had earned everything and I was merely borrowing the space, and while this is technically true I cannot help but marvel at the singular damage of this dark idea: That my existence as a child was a kind of debt and nothing, no matter how small, was mine. That no space was truly private; anything of mine could be forfeited at someone else’s whim.”  ― Carmen Maria Machado, In the Dream House

“The Rain” ~ by Jacqueline Acuña

This is a poem dedicated to my nana, who recently passed. Where ever you may find yourself, I hope you know that I love and miss you. I hope you like this poem. There will be a version in Spanish as well, titled “La Lluvia.” 

“The Rain” : 

The rain greeted us at the beginning of the end. She guided us through the road ahead— A slippery muddy road, filled with rocks, with dips and bumps. A commonly traveled road. A road filled with pain. A road that leads everyone to the same, unfortunate ending. And just like she came, she left. Unexpectedly. She left us soaked in tears of sadness, of joy. But the rain brought us together, united us. And together we wept her departure. We wept because without her there was a drought in our hearts that will never be resolved. The clouds shall gather too, for the rest of time and cry for her memory. The water dripping from the sky will not be filled with her presence. The water not being able to relieve the ache of the rain’s disappearance. And even though we don’t want to learn to live with the ache and the drought we will have to do it. We only have her memory to satisfy our thirst of wanting to see her, of wanting to be surrounded by her presence. We only have her memory of the coolness running down our skin, washing away our worries and our pain. For her, we became rain—crying droplets to try to cleanse ourselves of the ache of losing her. 

We became rain, to remember her.

Okay but, I hate reading hurt/angst but love writing it. Torturing myself is one thing, doing it to characters & audience is another. 😂

me when I click on a hurt/comfort fanfic and there's hurt in it:

u got through everything u didnt think u were strong enough for

True. 😭

The most dangerous game is resting your eyes after you turned off the alarm clock in the morning

Antisocial vs Asocial | Psych2Go

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We need people in our lives with whom we can be as open as possible. To have real conversations with people may seem like such a simple, obvious suggestion, but it involves courage and risk.

Thomas Moore (via psych2go)