God I feel wrought with emotion.
The stress is like a constant storm, constantly wrecking what I am able to fix. Every day is a whirlwind of success and failure and joy and dismay, and I’m waiting for the work to pay off. I feel like a runner on the last stretch of the mile, running so hard my muscles burn away to nothing, until I lie at the finish line, with a first place medal and two bloody stumps where my legs were. I need someone I can trust, someone who can shoulder this burden with me, who I can at least confide in and feel safe with - and I know that this person is me. They say to not ask for a lighter burden, but for stronger shoulders; and I know that if I stay true to myself and struggle to the end it will all be worth it. But the pain is in forcing myself to make the hard decisions, to try to better myself and make myself a better human being while simultaneously fulfilling my obligations to friends and family. All the things I want, all the fulfillment I crave, I know I can do it. I’ve defeated the part of me that accepts failure a long time ago, and I’ve become at least the core of the person I want to be - I’ve created a mindset that will not allow me to compromise on my values or my goals. Now I just need to mold this nugget of who I am into the shape of who I want to be. Between the never ending stream of thoughts and the weight in my heart of keeping secret my own battles, it is tough.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Most Facebook pages seem to be a twisted and disturbing mixture of poorly spelled gifs and memes advocating rape and female abuse with images of cute animals, and screen caps of old cartoon shows with “dat feel” pasted at the bottom in order to make it seem as if the page has some semblance of humanity or empathy.
Your jokes are shitty. Your iPhone screen caps are fake. Your content is unoriginal. Your material is disgusting and is clearly targeted towards children. I’m all for adult humor - I LOVE adult humor. But you dress it up with spongebob and pictures of cute animals so that kids will see it, and then share it with all their friends jokingly, despite how fucked up most of it is (why is it uncouth to make rape jokes in public, but on the internet is it suddenly fine?) And finally, your nostalgia whoring is a sick attempt to nullify the filth you’ve already spewed.
Well it doesn’t. I’m sick of that fucking sloth.