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Know Your Enemy

@muinz / muinz.tumblr.com

*sounds of sexual frustration* // spam blog - papaninini.tumblr.com // aesthetic blog yrgorg.tumblr.com // kpop blog pastelsangels.tumblr.com
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I recently found out why my mom would never sleep around me when I was a kid. Like she’d never let herself take naps or sleep if I was awake, ever. Or if she did, she would lock her bedroom door. So when I was 6, I was asleep in my bed in the middle of the night when I hear a loud bang, like a pot being dropped and come out to the living room to see my mom standing by the window, with just a huge pile of spaghetti all over the sill, and a pot on the ground, and I ’m like “Are you gonna eat all that?” And ya’ll she get’s BIG MAD and yells at me and chases me to my room but then a little while later a bunch of cops show up and ask me a bunch of random ass questions about my art? Like this one cop lady keeps asking me to draw dragons for her?! And they seem mad as hell

I didn’t want to get arrested so I just never asked my mom for spaghettis after that. Lesson, learned. Don’t ask mom for spaghettis or she’ll call the damn police on you. 

So I have this memory in my head, and it goes unquestioned until I say it outload for the first time a few months back and as soon as I say the words “When I was six, my mom called the cops on me for asking for spaghettis” My adult logic slams into place and is like “Hang on. Your mother definatly did not call the police on a 6 year old for asking for spaghetti.” 

So obviously that’s not what really went down. I call up my mom to tell her how I remember it and on top of her figuring out why her kid has always been really cagey around spaghettis for the last 3 decades she tells me what really happened. 

So on that night, a man tried to break into our house through the front window. It was just my mom, and her kids so she did what she felt she had too and shot him in the head. He’d been wearing a helmet, which landed on the floor under the window.

Now I just want ya’ll to put yourselves in my moms shoes for a minute here. This woman has just taken a human life. The trauma of that- the instant agony, the panic, the guilt, the fear- all of it hitting her at once, her only solace the knowledge that her children are safe. She protected her daughters. No matter the cost to her soul- her children are safe.

Then she looks up and sees her six year old staring at the inside of this mans head before saying “Are you gonna eat all that?” 

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Hey btw, here's a piece of life advice:

If you know what you'd have to do to solve a problem, but you just don't want to do it, your main problem isn't the problem itself. Your problem is figuring out how to get yourself to do the solution.

If your problem is not eating enough vegetables, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make vegetables stop being yucky". If your problem is not getting enough exercise, the problem you should be solving is "how do I make exercise stop sucking ass". You're not supposed to just be doing things that are awful and suck all the time forever, you're supposed to figure out how to make it stop being so awful all the time.

I used to hate wearing sunscreen because it's sticky and slimy and disgusting and it feels bad and it smells bad, so I neglected to wear it even if I needed to. Then I found one that isn't like that, and doesn't smell and feel gross. Problem solved.

There is no correct way to live that's just supposed to suck and feel bad all the time. You're allowed to figure out how to make it not suck so bad.

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y2kvictim

the most infuriating thing about personal growth is that even if someone else did have the answer you needed and conveyed it to you in a precise and effective matter, it won't make sense until you're ready for it. you could hear it every day of your life and it wouldn't matter a fucking bit until it finally clicks. there's very little you can do to influence when that happens, either

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we all have our own crosses to bear. for example. sometimes i enjoy a panic at the disco song

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now that i am a real adult i am starting to realise. media lied to me about the availability of rooftops to go hang out on. every day i wish i could be hanging out on a rooftop somewhere looking cool as fuck

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bizlybebo

i would've fucked so hard as a court jester in ye olde i would've jangled my balls and done a little dance and sang my silly tunes i'd be so good at my job. alas i have to be on tumblr instead which is like a poor imitation of it

bells. i meant bells

don’t do this to me

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wordfather

me: hey so how far does your 'all-seeing' sight extend?

the many eyed creature in my basement: ARE YOU ASKING BECAUSE YOU TRIPPED ON YOUR OWN SHOELACES IN THE FOYER AND FELL ON YOUR FACE?

me: oh... so you saw that... :(

the many eyed creature (trying to be nice): ................ NO.

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gawayne

*booking an mri* what if I accidentally have a pacemaker. what if I got secret bone surgery and forgot about the pins

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copepods

leitmotifs never get old to me like holy shit dude there’s this melody that corresponds to this one guy and if you hear the melody it means the guy is there. holy shit. and sometimes it refers to ideas too not just guys. has anyone heard about this

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duckapus

Sometimes something fucked up happens to the guy and their melody gets fucked up too. Sometimes the thing that fucked them up also has its own melody and when the first melody gets fucked up the second melody gets mixed in

no fucking way dude. are you serious

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god didn't give me a dick because he knew I'd get hard when I heard a rich choral harmony

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