Avant, étudier c’était pour faire briller des étoiles dans les yeux des adultes. C’était pour faire croire que j’étais quelqu’un de bien, de digne d’intérêt. C’était facile, c’était un jeu, je me racontais des histoires, ce en quoi j’excellais, on disait tu iras loin, et j’étais persuadée que c’était vrai. Longtemps, étudier a été une échappatoire, une fierté, un moteur d’ambition, quelque chose que j’aimais.
J’écrivais mes dictées comme des lettres d’amour. Je récitais l’alphabet comme un poème. Etudier valait la peine.
Aujourd’hui, maintenant que je suis adulte (qu’il est laid, ce mot, qu’il est écrasant), étudier est un mot qui me tord le ventre. Ce sont sept lettres comme une menace irrationnelle, sept lettres en moi qui font résonner les pierres. Pour mes études j’ai créé des échos qui font rouler des graviers dans ma gorge et me lacèrent de l’intérieur, l’angoisse en est devenue physique, et moi je suis : incontrôlable. J’ai des coups de sang, des crises de larmes, des rages infantiles. Je me noie entre mes fiches et mes listes interminables.
Il faut croire que même les études réveillent des monstres. Je suis terrifiée : de rater ma vie, de ne rien valoir, de me battre sans savoir pourquoi. Je suis terrifiée de poursuivre dans cette voie et de me rendre compte dans trente ans que ce n’était pas la mienne, que voilà, je me suis trompée, et que j’ai passé toute une vie à satisfaire des désirs qui n’étaient jamais les miens. C’est que je ne suis pas faite pour choisir, je n’ai pas de voie, non ; je suis mouvante et incapable de faire le deuil des possibles.
Je ne sais pas me définir sans ma quête de perfection, mes ambitions démesurées, mes exigences tyranniques. Je ne suis pas : sociable, jolie, intéressante, drôle, désirable. Alors je ne sais pas qui je suis si je ne parviens pas à réussir. C’est tout ce qu’il me reste. Je ne sais rien faire d’autre que cela, répondre à des exigences académiques, rentrer dans la norme, avoir un parcours sans accrocs.
Pour la première fois, étudier n’est pas facile. Peut-être que je n’irai pas si loin. Peut-être a-t-on placé en moi trop d’espoirs, trop d’attentes : des étouffements. J’ai l’impression que je n’ai jamais grandi, que j’ai fait semblant. Comment se faire à l’idée de décevoir ?
I never learn from my mistakes, as proven by the fact that one of my friends just told me I should try playing Warhammer 40k with him and I went "Oh sure, sounds nice !"
My problem is that I keep playing RPGs and Murder Parties in dark gritty universes like INS/MV or Vampire the Masquerade when instead I should be playing in universes like Good Omens or WWDITS.
I do think there is a difference between how men and women are socialized to express emotions but I cannot STAND when men twist that to imply that little girls are never told to “stop crying” or women just have a peachy easy time expressing emotion while men are forced to suffer in silence. Like literally women and girls are CONstantly told that we’re hysterical and overdramatic and irrational for expressing emotion and we explicitly get taken less seriously than men do when we express emotion. Be for real.
christmas music in the us: nothing better than building snowmen and waiting for santa as a family :)
christmas music in france: and so the THREE POOR ORPHANS who have to PICK UP THE REMNANTS OF THE HARVEST TO SURVIVE get LOST in the deserted fields and it's DARK so they ask the local butcher for shelter and HE SLAUGHTERS THEM LIKE PIGLETS AND PUTS THEM IN THE SALTING ROOM FOR S E V E N Y E A R S until the nice st. nicholas comes along and asks the butcher for shelter and a meal but then he refuses the ham he's offered and instead asks for the meat that's been in the salting room for seven years and the butcher cries for mercy and THE SAINT RAISES THE ORPHANS FROM THE DEAD but actually death was fine because they thought they were in heaven all along :)
I know SEVERAL afab nonbinary people who, as soon as they came out as nonbinary - immediately began dressing in ridiculous hyper-femme outfits they never would have worn before. A lot of people see this and say shit like “Theyfab” or say they are only nonbinary for attention. After all, look how femme they are.
But to me, this makes perfect sense. When you are forced into the category of “woman” against your will, femininity is a chore. It’s a job that you have. As soon as you say no, I’m not a woman, suddenly femininity isn’t your job anymore. It’s not a requirement. It’s just a fun hobby you can get into. Or a little treat sometimes.
So I'm going to a nerd convention this weekend and I made myself a t-shirt just for the occasion
Something so profoundly fucked up between the inverse ratio of shrinking middle class and ever increasing aggression of advertisement
Not to go "if you have ADHD just go for a run" or anything, but I am so serious if you have ADHD you should regularly go outside, no headphones no phone no nothing and just stand and observe for a while until you've had enough. Not until you get bored, until you've had enough. Drink your coffee without watching tiktok. Have a bath without music. Turn down the volume in your headphones. I cannot overstate how much learning to be bored is cruicial with ADHD. Life is not just about pleasure, no matter what your dysregulated dopamine system thinks, and when you teach your brain to be okay with being bored, then boring tasks stop feeling like torture. By letting yourself be bored you are yoinking your system out of the high/low binary and allow for the highs to feel like actual highs and not just anything that isn't low. I am so serious go literally touch grass. Listen to the sounds in your flat. Stimulate your body the way it was designed. It lowers anxiety and makes you feel like you're real and best of all it's completely free
how many people have done this already
I can't keep having the same conversations about love languages, mbti, iq, bmi, "brain fully formed at 25" and shit over and over again...
French. Posts sometimes. Can't pass up an opportunity to apocalypse. (Yes, I know it's not a proper verb.)
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