The greatest unrequited love story that is Leonardo Dicaprio and the Academy Awards.
Is there anything more terrifying than losing a needle somewhere in your bedroom? I’m afraid to move.
My hands are itching to create
Something of significance,
Just as my heart is crying out for
Sometimes I feel sad, because of the endless amount of dreams I have, I’ll only be able to accomplish a fraction of them, and only if I work really hard and have the best of luck, and yet I’m still sitting here, skimming through tumblr.
Should I watch Attack on Titan for the second time, or start reading the manga? Which to choose?
I don’t know where to start, but honestly there’s no good place to start. When my little sister was eleven, she decided to pretend to be a 16 year old girl and started seeing this 17 year old boy, in an online only relationship. When my sister was thirteen and the boy was 19, she told him her real age. Instead of being disgusted and ending the relationship with the clearly underaged girl, this pervert decided to tattoo her name on his arm, right above his anarchy symbol. And so their “relationship” continued, internet only. My sister in the meantime, became increasingly hostile towards my family, literally beating the shit out of me on more than one occasion. My mother did nothing to stop this, and only called the police when my sister threatened to break my mother’s arm. My sister was charged with assault and battery, but my mother dropped the charges, supposedly because of love, but more likely because of the lawyer fees. So my life went on, with myself growing closer to my mother, for really no other reason than the fact that we were suffering through my sister together. My mother came up with the plan to marry my sister to her then twenty year old online boyfriend as soon as my sister turned 16, a plan I saw as a definite way to get my sister murdered. Well, none of that happened. My sister broke up with him, and then got arrested for possession of pot at the age of fourteen. My mother once again got the charges dropped. I just want to say, that during this time, I was still getting the shit beat out of me and was now being threatened by my sister, who would often hide knives in her bedroom and scream that she was going to kill me. I was, understandably, growing more and more depressed as time went on. I never got to the point of being suicidal, but I often got to the point where I didn’t care if I lived or died, so I stopped eating and drinking, unless someone made me or when I binged after a particularly stressful event. I had bouts of insomnia that would give way to 15 hours of sleep a day, and sleeping through the weekends, so I wouldn’t have to deal with my family. I had breaks from them as well, which I credit with keeping me alive at times. A semester away for school and the following summer with my aunt, helped me immensely. But that’s not the end of my story. If you remember, my mother had wanted to marry my sister off to her internet boyfriend, but was thwarted when they broke up. So she had the man’s phone number all the while and was communicating back and forth with him for a long time at first trying to get him to get back together with her daughter and later I guess just talking, without anyone knowing for a full year. Then a week before my birthday, my mother disappeared. A week later she came back married to my YOUNGER SISTER’S PEDOPHILE EX-BOYFRIEND, who, not only that, is also half her age, didn’t make it past the eighth grade, and cherry on top, killed a man with a knife to the throat. Before that happened, my eldest brother and his girlfriend, and my youngest brother had moved back in with us, so the house was pretty full of people who already hated this man for targeting our younger sister. My mother brought him into the house anyway and I again started falling into depression. Two months after the marriage, my sister and her exboyfriend got into an altercation, that my mother conveniently didn’t hear anything about, as she was in the bathroom, even though my sister was screaming at the top of her lungs. I was asleep at the time and awoke to police officers asking me for ID. My mother went ahead and left town with her husband, and wasn’t there when Child Services came and interviewed all of us. I told the truth about my sister’s relationship to my mother’s husband and so did the rest of my family. The day my mother returned to the house, my sister was removed by child services because the threat of molestation was to great for her to be safe. I fell into a greater depression, as soon after, my brothers moved out to get away from my mother and her husband. I was alone and cycling through anger that my mother would choose a complete stranger over my sister, elation that I wasn’t being beat up everyday, guilt for being glad my sister was gone, and the total loneliness of living with two strangers, as my mother was no longer the same person. My grades dropped dramatically as I just stopped caring. I spent Christmas with my aunt and cried over the fact that I was going back to live with my mother. Even worse, my mother invited her new mother-in-law to come stay with us. Up to this point, I was increasingly lashing out about my displeasure with the marriage and subsequent events, and spending more and more time in my room, but this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Another stranger was moving into my home and my opinion didn’t matter. His mother moved in and I stopped talking to anyone. His mother found a job within a week of arrival and he was still jobless and had made no attempt to get a GED. He still hasn’t. This led to increasingly fights between my mother and her husband, and escalated when his mother drank a shit ton of alcohol and threw up everywhere, because surprise, she’s an alcoholic. I have exactly two more months of living here before I can move out, but it’s getting harder everyday. My hatred of my mother, her husband, and his mother is making me sick and tired. I’m spending as much time as possible away from them, but I lived here first and it’s sad that I don’t even feel at home anymore. I just want to leave and live my own life. I know that once I’m gone, I won’t contact my mother again, unless she divorces. She’s already lost the rest of her family over her decision and I’m only here because I’m not jeopardizing my school work again over her. I wrote this, not because I want anyone’s sympathy, but because I needed to get it all out of my mind. I’m just so angry whenever I talk to my mother, and even more so when he speaks or looks at me. But I can’t have that in me. So tomorrow, I’m going to start counseling, provided by the college I attend, and, hopefully, be recommended some more constructive ways of dealing with my feelings than crying jags, screaming, or sleeping. If you have any questions, comments, ideas, or suggestions, please drop an ask in my inbox. Thank you for listening to my story.
Looking through my wardrobe (or what’s left of it after the purge), I noticed that a lot of it is stuff, that while looking nice on me, would look great on someone else. I’ve been thrifting for my fantasy store for a while, apparently.