mnahil

alright

I am a completely different person to what I was a year ago, I hate myself at least 5 times more

I hate the internet. I hate how this poem doesn’t need to be finished but it has 13.9k retweets and 21.1k likes. Everyone knows how this poem ends and I hate it

Violets are Blue

Michael Jackson sang Thriller

what a weird way

for a poem to begin

im real tired of being so average but i have no idea how to stop

you know that feeling when you’re out in nature at 5 or 6am and everything’s still quiet and the air still smells like night time and it’s fresh so you shiver a bit but then slowly the first rays of sun peak over the edge of the earth and everything is bathed in foggy, golden light and you just stand there watching the earth awaken.. if that’s not soothing idk what is

Man though you know what makes me sorta sad is when nerdy, “quiet” kids latch on to me during camp and they just talk and talk and talk about a thing they’re into (Skyrim, Pokemon, Harry Potter, Doctor Who, dinosaurs, whatever). And I see the kids just light up when they say something and I can chime in with an ‘oh hey, are you talking about [x]? I love that thing! Tell me more about it.’

Like, their parents will warn me ‘so-and-so is pretty quiet and hard to engage’ but no, man, just listen, your kid is so smart and so into This Thing, they’ll engage like fuck and talk your damn ear off it you let them. Frame it in their damn terms. Or! Just! Listen to them about their Thing! And they will engage with the rest of the material! Because they know you care about them! Amazing!!!

Quiet kids are usually that way because either no one listens, or there is always someone more dominant speaking wise in their group that always talks over them and then they give up. Some quiet kids are starved for attention and really really want to talk, but don’t always get the chance to

Everyone who reblogged this are good people. Bless you, this made me happy to read

i think it’s so beautiful that every year on december 25th we all celebrate a birthday for someone who didn’t celebrate for himself. we celebrate someone who inspired and shared so much beauty and love. someone who gave us more than we could ever ask for. happy birthday, viktor nikiforov.

“can i ask you something?” my immediate reply says “go for it" but my mind has already gone through the seven stages of grief

Anxiety: An Introduction.

Everyone’s Abuse Is Valid Except For Mine: a novel by me

Everyone’s Mental Illnesses And Hangups Are Valid Except For Mine: the sequel

Everyone’s Chronic Illnesses and/or Other Physical Disabilities Are Valid Except For Mine: the spinoff

Everyone is Good and Beautiful and Worthy of Forgiveness Except Me, the Irredeemable Monster: Seasons 1-9

Kuroo

BALMUNG 16AW

*male writer voice* i don’t remember her name. it’s not important. i met her at a record store and she went home with me because i offered to buy her cigarettes. she had amazing perky breasts. we drank cheap whiskey and had sex three times that night and then she told me she wanted to be a dragonfly because they were free. i slept with her many times after that. but one day she stopped returning my calls and i don’t know why. that was seven years ago. on monday she got hit by a bus and died. i saw it in the newspaper so i went to her funeral and it made me sad. i don’t know why. i hate my mother even though she pays my rent while i write poetry about masturbating in the shower

HOLY SHIT LMFAOOOOO