It’s taboo to admit that you’re lonely. You can make jokes about it, of course. You can tell people that you spend most of your time with Netflix or that you haven’t left the house today and you might not even go outside tomorrow. Ha ha, funny. But rarely do you ever tell people about the true depths of your loneliness, about how you feel more and more alienated from your friends each passing day and you’re not sure how to fix it. It seems like everyone is just better at living than you are.

A part of you knew this was going to happen. Growing up, you just had this feeling that you wouldn’t transition well to adult life, that you’d fall right through the cracks. And look at you now. La di da, it’s happening.

Your mother, your father, your grandparents: they all look at you like you’re some prized jewel and they tell you over and over again just how lucky you are to be young and have your whole life ahead of you. “Getting old ain’t for sissies,” your father tells you wearily.

You wish they’d stop saying these things to you because all it does is fill you with guilt and panic. All it does is remind you of how much you’re not taking advantage of your youth.

You want to kiss all kinds of different people, you want to wake up in a stranger’s bed maybe once or twice just to see if it feels good to feel nothing, you want to have a group of friends that feels like a tribe, a bonafide family. You want to go from one place to the next constantly and have your weekends feel like one long epic day. You want to dance to stupid music in your stupid room and have a nice job that doesn’t get in the way of living your life too much. You want to be less scared, less anxious, and more willing. Because if you’re closed off now, you can only imagine what you’ll be like later.

Every day you vow to change some aspect of your life and every day you fail. At this point, you’re starting to question your own power as a human being. As of right now, your fears have you beat. They’re the ones that are holding your twenties hostage.

Stop thinking that everyone is having more sex than you, that everyone has more friends than you, that everyone out is having more fun than you. Not because it’s not true (it might be!) but because that kind of thinking leaves you frozen. You’ve already spent enough time feeling like you’re stuck, like you’re watching your life fall through you like a fast dissolve and you’re unable to hold on to anything.

I don’t know if you ever get better. I don’t know if a person can just wake up one day and decide to be an active participant in their life. I’d like to think so. I’d like to think that people get better each and every day but that’s not really true. People get worse and it’s their stories that end up getting forgotten because we can’t stand an unhappy ending. The sick have to get better. Our normalcy depends upon it.

You have to value yourself. You have to want great things for your life. This sort of shit doesn’t happen overnight but it can and will happen if you want it.

Do you want it bad enough? Does the fear of being filled with regret in your thirties trump your fear of living today?

We shall see.

You’re Not Making The Most Of Your 20s, Ryan O’Connell

(via genioussteals)

(via pursuit-of-myself)


bambiandpixie:

Same.

(via dulldream)



uzuakiko:

wafflesauce47:

likesboyswholikeboys:

you can preach about slut-shaming all you want, but you can’t deny there’s something very wrong with 13 and 14-year old girls going out in skirts and dresses so short they barely cover their asses and shirts with necklines so low they show off cleave they haven’t got yet, drinking and even smoking and hooking up with guys before they even have a substantial knowledge of how sex and sexual relationships work.

Thank you

For fucks sake, yes.

(via a-high-functioning-sociopath-has)


okellyjaneo:

kylobe:

geromykyle:

you’re welcome

fuckign finally thank u friend

This is possibly the best post I’ve seen on tumblr.

(via oatmealandcoffee)


other-wordly:

pronunciation | “ne-me-‘siz-m

other-wordly:

pronunciation | “ne-me-‘siz-m




oyrishcreme:

sonicdoctors:

dead-end-generation:

So I got sent to the dean today for wearing this top. My study tech teacher said that I was “exploiting” myself and that it could be a distraction to the other students. I got up out of my seat and told her that I wasn’t going to listen to her dress codes. In a way, she was being misogynist and slut shaming and I think that’s wrong. I will continue to wear what I want and nobody can tell me not to. The fact that womens bodies are sexualized and objectified so much angers me and that’s the reason why this happened. I’m going to wear what I want, how I want, when I want and that’s it.

I was there, reblog the shit out of this guys

I’m a guy. I can’t wear a shirt like this either, even though I’m not going to be wearing a bra. it’s dress code. It’s not slut shaming. You can’t show your bra like that at most jobs. why should you at school? Yes sexism is wrong and all that, but you can’t get ‘angry at the patriarchy” because you can’t show your undergarments in public. I’m not going to wear jeans with a rip in the side  or the front that show off my flowery boxers, because that’s just not appropriate for school. Have some professionalism. You can wear whatever you like at home or with your friends or whatever, yes, but school prepares you for real life.

At work you can’t have this attitude of “I wear the fuck ever I want.” and expect to keep your job. School is the same way because it’s trying to teach you that lesson. That’s unrealistic; almost any job you get is going to have someone tell you what to wear or what to do because you work for them and you represent their company. If you don’t look the way they need you to look, that makes them look bad. A tattoo parlor probably isn’t going to hire someone who dresses like a nun and a top company isn’t going to hire someone who comes to work in a tank top that shows off her bra or a guy that shows off his ballsack. 

You can’t blame patriarchy for this, I’m sorry. You can’t blame sexism for this. If I wore booty shorts and you could almost see my balls through my semi transparent flowery goddamn boxers, I would get in the same amount of trouble as you, and it’s within good reason.

(via knightsofknowledge)