Because I’m a idiot and was turning a corner when a bus was in the lane, and of course, the bus had to take up most of the fucking road. I thought I could just squeeze by, and I went straight into a ditch.
Dad was pissed, but we had some good neighbors and they helped us get it out. He’s not mad anymore, but he sure was.
I’ll just wait for a bus like a patient person next time.
She is so rude and selfish and snippy at every fucking thing I say. She has absolutely no respect for anyone or anything. Even she herself made the comment that now I’m on my new medicine, she doesn’t “get away” with being a bitch to me like she used to.
And when I snap back I get told to “get over it,” while she gets away with being a 24 hour snippy bitch to everybody.
At least dad understands. He won’t take her bullshit like my step-mom does.
“Essentially, the idea of a “slut” is a myth told to women to keep them in their place. Just as Santa will not actually bring you coal on Christmas if you break a few of the house rules, you will not actually turn into an intrinsically tainted, unpalatable creature if you break one of society’s rules and have sex with one too many men. The word “slut” isn’t a criticism for having too much sex necessarily, but for being a woman: a real, living, breathing woman with quirks, foibles, normal sexual feelings, and personality; and failing to live up to the societal ideal for a woman: the passive, pliable, perpetually innocent, and sexually available Barbie doll.”—The Slut Myth (via ceedling)
“Whenever anyone has called me a bitch, I have taken it as a compliment. To me, a bitch is assertive, unapologetic, demanding, intimidating, intelligent, fiercely protective, in control—all very positive attributes. But it’s not supposed to be a compliment, because there’s that old, stupid double standard: When men are aggressive and dominant, they are admired, but when a woman possesses those same qualities, she is dismissed and called a bitch.”—Margaret Cho (via grrrlstudies)
“[Trigger Warning: doubt] It’s okay if you’re not sure. Although you may feel under pressure (from yourself or others) to know exactly what happened, it may take time for you to discover the truth. Give yourself that time. It’s okay to not know everything yet - or ever.”—The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse by Ellen Bass & Laura Davis (via healingquotes)
Wow, this statement I relate more to than anything else that has ever been said about BPD. Every time I break up with someone I forget who I am, because during the relationship I’ve created a person that I thought they would find lovable. It’s not me.
I do this with
This relates to me even more then I would like to say. Because in all my relationships I try to create a person that would seem “fun” and “cool” so people will at least want to talk to me. ‘Cause honestly, I just see myself as a very boring person. I just want to be a person that somebody wants to take time out of their day to at least say hi to.
So I’m getting this feeling from this chick that she’d pissed at me for something.
I mean, she won’t talk to me for longer then 3 minutes over msn. It’s like she’s ignoring me or something. First few times I just assumed she was busy, but now it seems like she truly does NOT want to talk to me. I mean, I don’t know what I did to hurt her.
I don’t know, what should I do? I’m caught between the ‘just ignore it and get over it’ or ‘get the courage to actually ask her if she’s pissed at me.’
You know what? Sometimes, consent is NOT sexy. Sometimes it's awkward, sometimes it's annoying, sometimes the person says no when you were really hoping ze'd say yes, and it's not sexy, at least not right then. And that's okay. You need to get consent anyway, because it's the right thing to do, sexy or not.
I am so sick and fucking tired of being this weight.
I can’t bear the sight of myself anymore. I am just to fucking fat. End of story.
I’ve eaten like a pig this whole week and I’m bleeding over all my pants. It’s driving me fucking crazy.
My step-mom took the time to say I looked like I’d been “poured into” my jeans, and then dad made it a little more blatant for me by saying I looked to small in them. And these jeans fit last year, when I was at a stable weight.
And just a day ago when me and my mom were talking about the military, she said if I were to join I’d need to loose some weight, and then I mentioned the last time I talked to them I weighed a lot less, and then she said, “well that was then, now you’d have to loose some weight.”
I mean, you know you’re fat when your parents are giving you hints.
Just earlier, not long after I’d eaten supper I was watching Arctic Tales, my sister offered to make me a tuna sandwich, and I said yes. Then about a hour later I took a shower, and when I got out, I made myself throw that tuna shit sandwich back up. And every time I eat anything that’s not breakfast, lunch, or supper I’m just going to throw it back up.
Maybe that will teach me not to fucking eat like a fatass.
“Many people with this disorder were raised by parents who were emotionally or physically unavailable… On the other hand, some people who have BPD were raised in environments that were perfectly average, but their natural hypersensitivities made it feel like living hell”