[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
omg this song actually exists
(( HOLY CRAP IT’S REAL! ))
INBOX ME A COLOUR. ANON OR NOT.
Yellow: When you get older, where would you want to live?
Orange: Where do you want to be right now?
Lilac: What is your dream vacation?
Beige: What is your favorite dream?
White: Who was your first kiss?
Purple: Who was your last kiss?
Tangerine: Give a description of who you like.
Gray: Share a relationship story.
Green: Share a family story.
Gold: Share a story that makes you smile.
Black: Share something you did embarrassingly.
Blue: Are you still friends with the people you met in elementary school?
Magenta: What is something you barely tell anyone?
Red: What are your hobbies?
Violet: What college do you plan to attend?
Brown: Would you rather have a relationship or friend with benefit? Explain.
Peach: Who is your favorite teacher so far?
Pink: What is the meaning behind your url?
Someone will probably be offended by this.
I apologize in advance, but I’m going to speak my mind…
(This is where I rant about beauty ideals and I guess racism or something?)
I’ll admit, I’ve got somewhat exacting standards of beauty and I guess I’ve got kind of specific standards in what I’m attracted to but as far as color goes, it doesn’t usually come into it.
If I find someone attractive, I find them attractive, it doesn’t matter if their skin color or background is different from mine.
Alright guys, I know that post was meant to make people butthurt, but.
That honestly hit me, Right in the fucking heart.
Like, I’m legitimately fucking hurt right now, that post tore a piece of my fucking heart away,
Call me a drama queen if you want, I don’t give a fuck. Just, that hurt, a /lot./
To the point where i’m sitting in front of my computer, crying like a little bitch.
A Murder Victim of Modern Society
When liberals talk about bullying, it is usually the harmless, schoolyard variety, such as I endured in elementary school. Nothing physical; verbal taunts, jokes about my red hair and freckles, mockery for not being in the know about certain things that kids my age really ought not to have been in the know about. You know, the things mostkid goes through; the things that make kids stronger; the things that liberals nobly but pointlessly try to shelter their kids from ever experiencing. The bullying I went through caused me to undergo a period of crippling social anxiety in my middle- and high-school years. Today I have a healthy level of confidence, and an even healthier disdain for bullies than I would had I not been bullied. Today it is my personal vow that if I ever see someone being bullied—verbally or physically—I will intervene. Mean people bother me just as much as liberals do.
The pictures above break my heart. I don’t know anybody who would not feel compassion for such a physically and devastatingly emotionally battered face. My heart goes out to the poor girl. Yes, girl. The poor soul killed herself after she was beaten up for pursuing an alleged ex-girlfriend who had started dating someone else, this time a young man.
The girl called herself “trans.” My perspective on bullying and my deepest sympathies now established above, I still refuse to condescend to the young lady by feeding her fantasy that she’s a “trans,” whatever this word means. Transexualism is fake. It’s a new, modern-day phenomenon. Hermaphroditism—having both male and female genitalia—is real. I understand that. But transexualism is different. Transexualism is nothing other than a mental illness where a person has the insane notion that he is, deep down in his guts, despite the reality of biology, a woman (or vice versa). It is the only mental illness that society wishes not to help with therapy, but encourages the sufferer to embrace. People who knew her might come out and say that she was normal, healthy, and showed no signs of mental instability. But her deep confusion over her own gender, the battle between male and female that was obviously being waged in her mind is a sign, the sign, of her mental instability. That this girl killed herself is only a further testament to her unstable mental health.
I believe it is the panderers, the condescenders, the enablers who cause “transexuals” such emotional pain. When someone has a chemical imbalance that causes depression, we encourage that person to go to therapy to try and turn themselves around, to get them out of their funk of chronic sadness. Similarly, when someone believes that he is, say, Napoleon Bonaparte, we encourage that person to go to therapy, maybe take medicine, try to get him to see reality. We try to help that person, to truly help that person. To help is not to encourage him by saying, “Yes, you are Napoleon if you feel like you are.” If we did that, just as we do with “trans” people, that person would almost surely end up dead when he tries to conquer what he believes is a country but in reality is a Harlem ghetto.
So why do we encourage “transexuals” to embrace their confusion, telling them, “You go, Josephine! You’re not a female if you don’t feel like you are. From now on, you can be Joe. And go ahead, pursue females since you believe that you are, and therefore are, a male, reality and consequences be damned.”
It was society’s encouragement of this girl to pursue her fantasy that she is a boy that ultimately resulted in her killing herself. Shame on them! Shame on the panderers, the condescenders, the enablers!
Go. Fuck. Yourself.
How dare you say that transgendered people are faking. How fucking dare you.
I’m literally so angry that I can’t even see straight right now, let alone form a cohesive argument as to why you’re so unspeakably wrong.
Maybe once I cool down a bit I’ll return to this.
But for right now, fuck you.
Okay, i’m gonna go cry now.
Seriously. Fucking anxiety attack.
Fuck this post, fuck it, just.
Fuck.
