As Soon As You Think “maybe I Can Get Up Early And Just Finish It Tomorrow” You’ve Already Lost

http://gif-guy.tumblr.com/

XD so true….

She stretches out across your sheets; she’s all legs and red lipstick. You don’t remember when she got here, but you know she’s not leaving yet. She reaches out, runs a hand through your hair. She smirks, purrs: “Just stay in bed.” She curls up on your chest, clothed in other people’s diamonds and a long, black dress. Her fingers play invisible piano keys across your collarbones and she plants kisses on your neck when you should be taking a shower, getting dressed. You can’t get a word in edge-wise because she’s constantly asking you: “Remember that one time..?” And your mouth doesn’t work. And your brain doesn’t think. And are your eyes blinking? I don’t know. When was the last time you ate? She’s there when you try to return that call, when you go to put on your shoes. She powders her nose and gives you sideways glances at the liqour store. She laughs at jokes you don’t catch. She traces your lips with a well-manicured nail, asks you constantly to forgive her. She never apologizes. She never changes. When she falls asleep beside you, you can’t do anything but stare at her or the ceiling or her or the ceiling or her or the ceiling— She keeps you awake with her constant shifting. In the morning, you are empty and nauseous, with an ache behind your eyes and the panicked feeling that you’re wasting the best years of your life. Slowly. Pointlessly. One day at a time. Your friends tell you to leave her, but it’s not that easy. You don’t remember a Before and you can’t imagine an After. So, you make a quiet life together, just the two of you. You sleep in until noon and stay up drinking every night. You quit your part-time job to spend every day with her. Until she gets bored, and she always gets bored. When she does, she escalates. A little cocaine. Some scratch marks down your legs. Waking up in the bathtub, shaking. Those pills look just like candy, don’t they? But, she reaches out, runs a hand through your hair. She smirks. Purrs: “Just stay in bed.” They compare her so often to a little black rain cloud, a wilting flower—but she is so much more complex. Infinitely more tragic. She’s the feeling you get at a strangers funeral, like maybe you should cry or just not be there. My Depression is the first person I ever fell in love with. And together, we are wasting the best years of my life. Slowly. Pointlessly. One day at a time— Those pills look just like candy, don’t they?

excerpt from my novel TL Jablonowski (via littlevirtue)

signs from most to least positive

sagittarius leo libra aquarius taurus gemini cancer aries pisces capricorn virgo scorpio

I have finally hit my breaking point. For as long as I can remember I have endured my mother’s abuse, whether it is verbal, emotional, or as seen here physical. I can expect some act of violence on a daily basis, and her beating me is not an usual occurrence, but today something snapped. My mother did this unprovoked, and this time she didn’t stop. Usually it’s bad for a little while and then she’s done, today it went on for what seemed like forever. At a certain point I decided I was going to do something I never do, call the police. You see, my mother is a highly respected and very well known person where I live. She is on the board of ed, worked for CPS for many years, and is close personal friends with people like the local chief of police, director of our local CPS unit, and so on. I always knew that calling wouldn’t go anywhere and just upset her more, but today I had to try. While she was kicking me I found my opportunity, and somehow managed to get away from someone more than twice my size. I ran as fast as I could, knocking things over behind my, trying to find a phone. I dialed and they listened and my mother proceeding to beat me over it, while I screamed for help. For the second time today, I managed to get away from her and ran to my room. I barely had enough time to lock my door, before she starting trying to get it, to the point that she ripped my door off the frame. I decided I was going to stay locked in there, until the police came. The past few months I have been collecting evidence against her, voice recordings, pictures like these, and videos of her violence, so they couldn’t dispute what was going on. But I was dead wrong. 

When the officer finally came up to my room, I attempted to tell him my side of the story, but before I could get a sentence out he silenced me. HE told me that this was my mothers house, and I needed to live by her rules. If I didn’t she had the right to punish me. He also told me to be tankful for her, because he wanted to press assault charges against me. finally, he refused, despite my begging, for him to take me to a shelter for teens. 

I am utterly disgusted by the injustice that occurred today. I pray there is no one else out there who is living in such a situation. I am not sure exactly what I am getting out of writing this, except maybe that it’s just nice to be able to open up about this, when I have had to keep it a secret my whole life. idk. sorry for posting such heavy shit. 

it’s kind of ridiculous that we have to work our asses off for 13 years in school just to work our asses off for another 2-8+ years in college just to work our asses off in a job that we probably don’t even like, when we were born on this earth without a choice and i for one certainly didn’t sign up for that