I'm Vanilla. I'm 25. English. I move around. I have anxiety, poor social skills, people hate me. I like owls, weed, Pokémon, vegan food, vidya, cute animals, comfy furniture, books and art. Taken.
All it took was a brief dramatized shot of an immigrant to send certain corners of the internet into hysterics during the 2017 Super Bowl.
#BoycottBudweiser started to trend days before the big game, when Bud first shared its ad depicting its founder, Adolphus Busch, coming to America to found what would become America’s most popular beer.
Budweiser’s simple ask, which amounted to little more than “treat human beings the way you’d like to be treated,” spiraled out into a divisive flag-plant fit to shake brand loyalty and get the cuck sirens sounding. Because it seems that’s all it takes to be political in 2017.
Make a simple ask for peace, patience and compassion, and watch yourself turn into a martyr overnight. Read more
why is the bad girl in high school movies always the popular preppy cheerleader why cant we have a movie where the villain is the nerdy girl who thinks shes superior to everyone else because she watches doctor who and drinks tea and is “not like other girls”
I haven’t posted anything personal here in a while so I guess it’s time to do that. The last two weeks have been really rough. I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself. I keep lashing out at people close to me or shutting down completely. I haven’t been eating properly and my sleep is all over the place. I kept waking up last night and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I’m trying really hard to focus on the positive things, you know? Like the people who are here for me when I need them and the family who drop everything to help me out.
I’m just struggling but I suppose I’ve been struggling for a long time. I haven’t been happy for a while. I didn’t notice it because I was used to it and I distracted myself with drugs for a time and then alcohol. Now, I guess, is the best time for me to attack it; when it’s raw and exposed and I can’t hide from it anymore. I’ve never made an effort to help myself. I always watched from a distance as I floundered in the water, gasping for air. It was almost amusing to me how much of a ridiculous mess I was, it was a joke. I was my own funniest punchline. I laughed about the suicidal thoughts and the perpetual tears and the mood swings. I thought there was a certain dignity in sinking with the ship. I was wrong.
When I was a kid I used to think it was pathetic being happy. What’s the point? It goes away eventually, so just stay here in the sadness because it never leaves you. Even when you’re elated, the highest in the world, it’s still there. I made friends with mine. I just accepted it was a part of who I was and didn’t question it at all. My bad. I didn’t realise it affected everything I did and everything I felt. I was never good enough, I was never pretty enough, stop smiling you look stupid, you’re pathetic, nobody loves you, don’t eat that, don’t do that. I knew I was worthless. There wasn’t a doubt about it.
So, I guess the point is I’m trying. I mean, it’s not going to go away completely and I know that. And it’s not going to go away quickly or easily, either. I guess if you really want to help yourself you have to try. The first thing is realising you’re important. Not in the grand scheme of things, like the universe, but in the little bits. The delicate touches, the memories, the kind words, the laughter. I’m not as expert in being nice to people, but I like to think that I’m a good person. The more I think I’m a good person, the smaller the demon gets. The smaller the demon gets, the healthier I’ll be. I still feel like I’m making a fuss over nothing. And that my tiny world isn’t worth all this effort, but maybe it is. Maybe in a few months I can see myself the way other people see me. Or even better, the way I’ve always, secretly, wanted to be.
