I quit watching 13 Reasons Why at the end of the third episode.
I know, that makes my little post here a bit more invalid than the many others floating around online, but hear me out. Having read summaries for the later episodes that I didn’t watch, I know that Hannah is put through a traumatic experience far beyond being subjected to asshole teenagers being assholes. So my opinion may be rendered incorrect—feel free to do so in the comments. Continue reading
My original post on xoJane
Like many people, I was bullied as a child. It was something I grew used to from my peers. I was a little too weird for my own good. My fixation on horses often got me compared to them in unflattering terms. “Look at her,” one boy would say as I drank from the water fountain, “she even looks like a horse when she drinks!”
But it was never the other kids that were the worst bullies. It was a teacher. Continue reading
Poppy, me, Nana, and Laura
My maternal grandfather recently passed away. I called him Poppy when I was very little, and the nickname stuck.
Poppy was the best person I had ever known. Continue reading
This… This is heartbreaking.
I don’t see anything constructive in these videos that parents take where they shame their children as punishment and then they post them online for EVERYONE to watch and laugh about. Isn’t it funny? Isn’t it just hilarious to watch a child be punished? Continue reading
The things that I take on
I soon shrug off
’cause I know no one
Will ever be content
With the way things are
Or with what they’ve got
So I’ve given up and now I’m just indifferent
So, I’ve reached that point.
I have a sketch that I started on the day before Christmas Eve. Today, I stared at my closed sketchbook for five minutes going over the merits of actually making myself pick it up and finish it. And I couldn’t bring myself to care at all about it. Instead, I left it on my shelf and went back to reading fanfic and not feeling much of anything.
Am I sad?
I just don’t care. Continue reading
So, I started seeing a therapist.
It’s helping a little, but there is still quite a large part of me that looks long and hard at my life—at where I am at my age (28) and thinks of what a complete failure I am as an adult. I can’t help it. Yes, there are people who love me. Yes, I am receiving support that a majority of unemployed people my age aren’t getting. My parents are supporting me. I should consider myself lucky. I should feel a measure of happiness. Continue reading
Old Man in Sorrow (On the Threshold of Eternity), Vincent van Gogh (1890)
I’ll start by saying that I’m going to be incredibly candid in this entry. I wrote a few things down as they happened, and I’m just going to paste the text in here. It’s easier. Continue reading