So if anyone knows a girl who was shopping at DSW at citrus plaza today around 3:40 pm or so can you please let me know like seriously
I’m not even joking
Happy Birthday to my most pain in the ass sister. The above photo array is probably one of the more accurate depictions that I can create. My sister and I take lots of pictures that are too unattractive for anyone in the entire world to see, but this’ll just have to do. I’m sure she’d much rather prefer that I put some from when we were younger because that’s when she claims that I “actually liked her” and enjoyed her company. The reason she says that is because I’m kind of rude and mean and a gigantic bully to her more than ninety percent of the time nowadays. She definitely expresses her love for me much more than I her, and she’s too affectionate for her own good sometimes. But I don’t think anyone, especially my sister, knows how much I love my sister. Granted, she gets on my case about everything and we fight about the smallest and most insignificant things that get blown incredibly out of proportion, but that’s one of the main reasons I love her. She’s the only person who’s ever actually been able to take all the shit that I throw at them. For the past six years, my sister has been on the receiving end of all of my teenage angst and other anger. Sometimes I forget to thank her, actually I always forget to thank her. But the truth of the matter is that without my sister, I definitely wouldn’t have made it this far. Too many demons would have won and I would have definitely dropped out of college by now. People used to refer to me as “Liz’s brother” when I started high school, which was one of the most annoying things to ever happen. But I didn’t realize until recently that it was a definite compliment to be known by that. My sister is the smarter of the two of us, and she’s definitely more determined. She’s the most ridiculously bubbly and cheerful person I’ve ever met, which is another reason we end up fighting a lot. Honestly, though, I can say truly that I wouldn’t be who I am today without my sister there to have my back when I need her. She’s one of the few people I know I can count on, even if I never ask for her help. She’s got a damn good sense of style, a decent enough taste in music, and the ridiculous sense of humor; she laughs at every damn thing I say like I’m fucking 1990s Robin Williams or some shit. My sister is probably the most irritating person I deal with on a daily basis, but I appreciate the fact that she and I actually see each other on the daily. And, that in spite of all the shit that she and I have said, she still cares enough to call me her little brother. So here’s to my sister, the superior of the Morlock offspring. Happy Birthday, Elizabeth.
“don’t judge someone because they sin differently than you”
this is like the most said / reblogged thing among this small community of people in which I find myself associated
the only problem is that this applies not just to sins, but to all actions
the point of this saying isn’t to get people off someone else’s back for sinning
it’s to point out that everyone sins, everyone is human
everyone makes mistakes, no one is exempt
that’s the whole point
you have to forgive people, even when they’re not worthy of it
otherwise the animosity and the hatred builds up
and hate is baggage (AHX)
personally, I think we’ve all got enough to carry already
so I just realized how often I reblog wedding photos
I mean, granted I follow a blog specifically dedicated to Indian weddings, but a vast majority of what I post is related to weddings
I mean, I even have a tag that I can actually use for future reference for “wedding”
honestly, I should probably change the tag to say “I swear I’m straight”
& the title of my blog should be “Trust me, I like girls.”
so I don’t know how to make something “read more” on the tumblr app, which means I’ll probably just have to make this super lengthy looking so nobody reads this.
& in order to avoid people getting curious about something my mom said, I’ll censor some words here & there. inbox me if you care to know them, but I’m not holding my breath.
but basically, i stayed up past one both last night & the night before talking to my mom about a lot of different things.
somehow my mom & I always end up talking about relationships & my recent lack of relationships. that doesn’t concern her much but she does mention that it’s been a very, very long time since I’ve shown interest in a girl. she always mentioned that it’s been a really long time since I’ve been _____.
& the sad part is that it’s actually true. I mean, I haven’t been _____ since ___________. & even then, there was a whole ____ between graduation & the time I was _____.
long story short, my mom basically said that I’m like dr. Jekyll & mr. Hyde.
I don’t know, I guess that’s not a very big deal. but literary allusion aside, it’s kind of a big thing. I know my mom worries that I’ll get _________, which is basically a downside of telling her that I was before. but it’s kind of a sad thing when your mom says that you’re basically _____ & _________. I don’t know, but it makes me wonder if maybe I am _________.
all I know is that at this point in time, my mom knows me best (as sad as that is). & that she’s right. so now I just need to figure out what to do with that
I honestly cannot stand birthday cards. Store bought birthday cards, that is. I would much prefer some homemade card that looks ridiculous than a card that you could’ve popped into the grocery store & picked up on thirty seconds. I mean, if they’re like my mom & they’re gonna write me a long, heartfelt essay inside the card, it’s fine. But I cannot stand getting a birthday card where all they wrote is, “Nathaniel,” & then at the end of the giant card message they write “Your Friend, Seamus” or whatever. Honestly, the best “cards” anyone can give me is a handwritten letter. On blank or notebook paper or on a sticky note, for all I care. Just give me something that shows that you though enough about me to write something with your own hands. The best gift anyone could ever give me is to write me a story. If you’re gonna do that, write it or type it, it’s up to you. But if you’re gonna give me cash or a gift card or something, please don’t just hand me a hallmark card. I’ll end up lowkey hating the cash or whatever. The best gift I’ve ever gotten was a handwritten letter that they wrote about who I was; they gave me other things as part of it, but I much preferred the note. I put it in my wallet & carried it with me. I don’t know if this is unpopular opinion or what, but that’s my two cents.