saw I trap: hey girlie! this guy is dead. but he has a key in his tummy!! could you get it out to save yourself??
saw traps II and up: preform brain surgery on yourself then eat your own arm then watch your wife be brutally murdered then melt all your skin off with this acid then kill 7 innocent bystanders. you have 45 seconds. now you'll think twice about taking antidepressants.
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Some of y’all act like basic manners, general human decency, and kindness to others is SO MUCH emotional labor. I don’t like that shit.
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You are going to laugh until your stomach hurts again. You're going to be in awe of a sunset. Watch your favorite show while you eat your favorite food. Find money on the street. Discover a great band you haven't heard of before. You will find your way back.
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One thing I’ve noticed about people in or entering their 30s is they don’t make as many compromises anymore. If someone doesn’t meet them halfway, is not up to standard, is just not where they’re needed to be, they’re just like “ok cool” and they move on from the person. Which is not to say they’re less empathetic or understanding, but more that they have learned that time is their most prized possession and they’re not willing to make massive compromises on it. They are not obsessed w the idea of fixing someone (bc the concept of fixing a person doesn’t really exist). They simply move on to someone who is up to par. I want that. I want to always move w the awareness that time is my most priceless belonging and I can never buy it back. Ever. So I have to use it wisely
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tips on refrigerator ownership for the mentally ill
1.) letting food go bad does NOT make you a Bad Person.
2.) it is okay to throw out only one thing at a time. even especially if there are a lot of expired things in there.
3.) give yourself permission to throw out tupperware once in a while.
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Being jurgen leitner the day that gerry almost killed him was probably really surreal. Imagine you’re minding your business, collecting fucked up books, and out of nowhere this goth guy covered in eye tattoos shows up and beats you half to death, then stops, goes, “no you’re too pathetic to be jurgen leitner” and leaves without further elaboration. And you dont correct him, you like being alive after all, and after that you just… continue with your life. And then several years later you tell this to some random guy in the tunnels you’ve been hiding in, and he not only knows who the goth was, but seems somewhat fond of the goth. And then you get brutal pipe murdered by the random guy’s boss. Oops
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There are a lot of things I'm sad about in my life. You don't get to go through the kind of medical trauma I've been through and come out unscathed on the other side.
But one thing I'm really bitter about is that I can't remember my wedding anymore. The pernicious anemia took it from me and wiped my brain clean. Except it's not clean, not really. I remember it in patches. Like red wine stains on a white rug that have never quite lifted out no matter how hard you try.
I look at the pictures on my bookcase, and they feel like remembering a story someone else has told me. There's a young woman in a white dress wearing my face, and she looks happy. I'm happy for her. But you can see the strain around her eyes, too. The pain she's hiding because no one with authority believes her when she says her body doesn't feel right. That something is Wrong.
They won't believe her for another decade. They won't believe her until it's almost too late, and it's that lateness that will rob her of her memories and turn them into a wavering rainbow suspended in the fine haze of watery sunlight that occasionally surfaces through the blanks.
There's one memory that's real, though. Solid. It's not my vows. It's not my father walking me down the aisle. (Though those are there, just hazy and dream-like). It's our first dance.
It's the lights dimming around the room as the staff cleared the floor, causing the fishbowls full of white roses and LED lights on the tables to wobble like pools of moonlight against dark paneled walls.
It's the band inviting us out onto the floor and us giggling because we know what's coming next, and no one else does. It's the twang of a banjo reverberating around the room through the speakers, followed by the dulcet tones of Kermit the Frog wondering why there are so many songs about rainbows.
It's us waltzing around the enclosed circle of light, singing to each other out of tune and grinning like idiots as everyone around us starts to laugh.
It's everyone joining in on the song because it's the Muppets, and everyone knows the words. It's 100+ people singing the Rainbow Connection, some laughing, some a bit tearful, because it's bringing back memories. Because it's making a new one.
It's looking up at my new husband through the brain fog and all the pain in my body and thinking, "I want to remember this moment forever."
I don't know what entity was out there listening to me at that moment and chose to grant that wish. I don't know why this is the one memory that stuck while everything else in my brain got decimated into scattered, fragmented snapshots. But I'm so, so thankful it is.
Though, I could have done without it randomly coming on my YouTube music out of nowhere to hit me in the emotions like a brick to the back of the head. Jesus Christ.
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