having adhd makes all of your thoughts feel like a 7-way venn diagram
and explaining anything like this
having adhd makes all of your thoughts feel like a 7-way venn diagram
and explaining anything like this
unavoidable that you will be the villain in someone else's story. You will be painted in an unfavorable light. You will be the irredeemable one. and all of this will happen despite how nice you might usually be or how kind or how respectful or how warm. and you will just have to move on.
i know weโre both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what iโm saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when itโs raining. what iโm saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what iโm saying is that iโm here for you and if the train comes please move.
i wrote this 7 years ago, somehow. every day someone else finds it and whispers to me - oh, i understand this. something always turns in the wash of my stomach: i am so, so glad you feel seen. i wish you had no idea what this post was about.
i wrote this while working in a program for new writers. on wednesdays, two of the teachers would be contractually obligated to read our writing aloud to the group of 300+ teens. i had never read my work in public before. i had something like 6k poems and was panicking about it. none of them are good enough. sometimes the train is howling. it is hard, actually, sometimes, even as an adult.
and then i thought - what is one thing i wish i could tell all of them. each of these 300 kids. what did i need to hear, at 16?
i wanted to tell them about the day you wake up, and the sun feels warm finally. i wanted to tell them about carving a life out of soapstone, your hands turning bloody. i wanted to tell them that sometimes yes - it actually does feel easy. i wanted to tell them about weddings and cookie dough and long road trips. about albums of new music and old friends laughing and the sound of snow falling.
you will learn the pattern of the train. you will learn to close your eyes when you hear the engine rumbling. you will learn to let yourself have the grey days in their lily-soft numbness. sometimes it will feel like life is wet paint, and god has smeared your canvas across a sewer grate. sometimes it will be so boring it isnโt even pronounceable - the tenacious, soundless blankness. survival isnโt just ugly nights and wild mornings. it is also the steady, unimportant moments. it is just driving with your seatbelt on. it is calling a friend on the way home. it is burying your face into the fur of your dog.
when i had finished reading this poem aloud, the auditorium was silent for a solid minute. someone stood up to take a picture of where it had been projected onto a screen, and then three more people followed the action, and then - like a bad internet story, people remembered they were supposed to be clapping. kids came up to me after it - thank you for writing that. i think i hear a train coming.
i would write this differently now, i think, but it has been 7 years. i still live by the tracks. i also havenโt picked up a blade in over 10 years. the scars are still there, but these days i only pick up scissors to cut my hair. i know why you canโt tell your mom about it. i know how the numbness slips over everything, a restless horrible cotton. i know how when you dropped the dish, you werenโt crying about the broken glass. i know about feeling like all the roads have closed their exits, that you arenโt supposed to still-be-here - and yet.
i am still here, and still yours, and i havenโt forgotten. what iโm saying is if any hope is calling to you - i know itโs hard, but you have to listen. iโm saying keep driving, but slow down the car. sit down in the shower, iโm not judging you. we can stay in the dark with the good hot water and do nothing but stare. notice the stab wound. make it through another tuesday.
i know what it is like to miss yourself. do what you need to. come home to me. i am writing to you, my past self, from the future. iโll be waiting for you.
and when the train is coming - please move.
i know weโre both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what iโm saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when itโs raining. what iโm saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what iโm saying is that iโm here for you and if the train comes please move.
i wrote this 7 years ago, somehow. every day someone else finds it and whispers to me - oh, i understand this. something always turns in the wash of my stomach: i am so, so glad you feel seen. i wish you had no idea what this post was about.
i wrote this while working in a program for new writers. on wednesdays, two of the teachers would be contractually obligated to read our writing aloud to the group of 300+ teens. i had never read my work in public before. i had something like 6k poems and was panicking about it. none of them are good enough. sometimes the train is howling. it is hard, actually, sometimes, even as an adult.
and then i thought - what is one thing i wish i could tell all of them. each of these 300 kids. what did i need to hear, at 16?
i wanted to tell them about the day you wake up, and the sun feels warm finally. i wanted to tell them about carving a life out of soapstone, your hands turning bloody. i wanted to tell them that sometimes yes - it actually does feel easy. i wanted to tell them about weddings and cookie dough and long road trips. about albums of new music and old friends laughing and the sound of snow falling.
you will learn the pattern of the train. you will learn to close your eyes when you hear the engine rumbling. you will learn to let yourself have the grey days in their lily-soft numbness. sometimes it will feel like life is wet paint, and god has smeared your canvas across a sewer grate. sometimes it will be so boring it isnโt even pronounceable - the tenacious, soundless blankness. survival isnโt just ugly nights and wild mornings. it is also the steady, unimportant moments. it is just driving with your seatbelt on. it is calling a friend on the way home. it is burying your face into the fur of your dog.
when i had finished reading this poem aloud, the auditorium was silent for a solid minute. someone stood up to take a picture of where it had been projected onto a screen, and then three more people followed the action, and then - like a bad internet story, people remembered they were supposed to be clapping. kids came up to me after it - thank you for writing that. i think i hear a train coming.
i would write this differently now, i think, but it has been 7 years. i still live by the tracks. i also havenโt picked up a blade in over 10 years. the scars are still there, but these days i only pick up scissors to cut my hair. i know why you canโt tell your mom about it. i know how the numbness slips over everything, a restless horrible cotton. i know how when you dropped the dish, you werenโt crying about the broken glass. i know about feeling like all the roads have closed their exits, that you arenโt supposed to still-be-here - and yet.
i am still here, and still yours, and i havenโt forgotten. what iโm saying is if any hope is calling to you - i know itโs hard, but you have to listen. iโm saying keep driving, but slow down the car. sit down in the shower, iโm not judging you. we can stay in the dark with the good hot water and do nothing but stare. notice the stab wound. make it through another tuesday.
i know what it is like to miss yourself. do what you need to. come home to me. i am writing to you, my past self, from the future. iโll be waiting for you.
and when the train is coming - please move.
So, Iโve been pulled over a few times in my life. Not many, but a few. And Iโve also been in a couple of cars that got pulled over. And let me tell you, if you were actually doing something wrong, the officer doesnโt make any small talk, just straight intoย โI clocked you doing 70 in a 55.โ The only time Iโve ever gotten theย โdo you know why I pulled you over?โ was the time when I wasnโt doing anything wrong, and I got let go even though he insisted to the end that I was doing 87 in a 70 (white privilege at work).
โDo you know why I pulled you over?โ is a trap. It means thereโs a good chance the officer doesnโt actually have a good reason to ticket you, and is trying to get you to waive your 5th Amendment rights and incriminate yourself. If you make a guess, thatโs a confession of guilt.
But thereโs another trap, that Iโve heard of but havenโt yet experienced. Itโsย โdo you know how fast you were going?โ With that one, theyโre hoping youโll say no, because then they can name whatever speed they want โ you just said you didnโt know how fast you were going, if you deny the speed they name then youโre lying to them.
Oh, Iโve had that one. Go with โyes.โ Donโt give them a number, just say โYes.โ Then they still have to offer a number and you can deny it without contradicting yourself. They could just ask you, at that point, but thatโs suspiciously similar to saying they donโt know, and they tend to avoid doing that.
Reblog to save a life
if you scroll past this just because it doesnโt affect you personally, i see you.
Also, you can always go to court and contest a ticket, and a lot of times youโll win. Or if the cop thinks youโll win they wonโt even show up and youโll win by default.
They like to target out of state plates because anyone who would be majorly inconvenienced by a court date two months away is a lot more likely to just pay it.
The $100-200 it usually costs to hire a ticket attorney is well worth it.
married otters<3
He put an extra picture at the end of the video ๐ญ๐ญ
Jenna & Julien are officially married, Iโm going to go lay on the floor and cry for an hour now. Donโt mind me, just internet royalty making me feel so single but also so happy at the same time!
me seeing julien posting photos of him and jenna on their wedding day after not seeing jenna online in so long
JENNA AND JULIEN GOT MARRIED
Marbles having his own little stroller so he could also be at Jenna and Juliens wedding
I will never recover from this actuallyโฆ
Jenna and Julien are married!
the euphoria of elliot page (esquire)
Today I'm coming with this treasure HAHAHAH
It's back! ๐ @littlefreya I'm in tears!
Always reblog ๐๐ญ
โDonโt you ever say I just walked away, I will always want you.โ
Request by anonymous
my toxic trait is that i think for every 15 minutes of work i do i should get 45 minutes of fuck around time