be forewarned, this is a rant.

bloodredbits:

this weekend has been really difficult. but that is neither here, nor there. someday, this will get easier, and that’s all that matters. someday i will be able to remember and record my days without feeling like i’m throwing either happiness or sadness into my own face. there were some happy moments this weekend. there was also despairing sadness. with that being said, i cannot wait to throw myself back into my workout/work routine. sitting around staring at my phone for the past 72 hours has done nothing but make me rather edgy. soon, things will be different. soon, i will be exhausted, and chocked full of endorphins and pain, but somehow it will feel good, & i’ll have whoever i decide to let in. it’ll be new and fun, and everything will be shiny.

read more

accurate.

personal accurate oh shut up

infinite-night-in-winter:

buckets-of-love:

i dare you to reblog this with the last thing you copied and paste it.

β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”Ooooβ€”-
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”-(β€”β€”)β€”-
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”)β€”/β€”β€”
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”(_/-
β€”β€”oooOβ€”β€”
β€”β€”(β€”-)β€”β€”
β€”β€”—-(β€”
β€”β€”β€”\_)-
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”-Ooooβ€”-
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”-(β€”β€”)β€”-
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”)β€”/β€”β€”
β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”β€”(_/-
β€”β€”oooOβ€”β€”
β€”β€”(β€”-)β€”β€”
β€”β€”—-(β€”
β€”β€”β€”\_)-

existentialism

ctrl p

Anonymous asked:

tell me a story.

blood red bits Answer:

ugh. you sent me this one a while ago. i’m terrible at telling stories. i’m even terrible at telling stories that pertain to events i’ve personally experienced. i get lost easily, & if i think you’re not completely captivated & engrossed with what i’m saying, i get really self conscious, taking it as a sign that my story probably sucks, & i’ll usually tldr:’d it quickly just so i can shut up.

unrelated, except i guess it’s kind of a story, probably a bad one: i had a drunk dialer around 2am this morning. we had one awkward, but okay date, but a handful of productive phone conversations, & a fair amount of engaging text.

it was not an unpleasant surprise. i was just there in my bed, feeling a modicum of loneliness, tossing and turning, contemplating the fact that my hands get an uncomfortable tingling sensation & then begin to cramp when i play minecraft in bed for too long. a phone call was almost a reprieve, until i realized he was drunk. this wasn’t a great epiphany. it was fairly easy to deduce. his speech was sloppy, like he was tripping over a swollen tongue. he seemed simultaneously chipper & pissed off, like someone who was excited about being angry.

he immediately started in on this program he had watched on the sci-fi channel that claimed that there was a 5 sided pyramid on the moon, & that somehow proved there were aliens. & then there was the bill cooper/NWO rant that lasted a little too long. finally, i was in the middle of a story when he just started screaming β€œyou’ve already told me this shit 20 times before!” i was pretty sure i hadn’t told this story to anyone before.

i didn’t wanna talk anymore after that. i just held my breath & bit my lip into the receiver until he hung up.

tldr; i don’t really like telling stories.

Anonymous asked:

You're blog is inconsistent.

blood red bits Answer:

you used the wrong form of your^

how so?

Anonymous asked:

Where are you from?

blood red bits Answer:

i’m from new york. more specifically, i’m from a tiny town that no one has ever heard of in new york. well, obviously there are some people who have heard about it, just not very many. i used to begin by telling people i was from oneonta, & if they didn’t recognize that city, i would move on to binghamton, & if they were still at a loss, i would just say albany, because it’s the capital, & it’s relatively close.

& now i live in albany, so it’s not a lie. :D