they want you to make fried rice

remember when you used to be able to play snake with the… hold on what’s it called

hmm. don’t think i’ll be calling it that. anyways i was gonna say remember when you could play snake with the buffering circle on youtube but. now i have other concerns

Dog toy plushies have fundamentally different souls than that of regular plushies. Unlike regular plushies, which are content with just existing (and just go to regular heaven when they get destroyed and don’t mind being resurrected), dog toys seek Valhalla. This is why you don’t need to feel bad when your dog/cat/especially strong bird rips it to shreds, because this was the warriors death they were seeking all their life

Adults: Following rules is good, not following rules is bad

Little me: Okay :] *follows a rule*

Adults: Oh my god look at this loser. He doesn't know that this rule is Secretly Okay To Not Follow. Dumbass. Let's all laugh at him

sometimes i feel like people forget autism is a disability. and that’s not a bad thing! i’m all for disability acceptance, im proud of my disabilities. but i feel like we forget autism can hurt.

it hurts that i have to put more time and energy into socializing than others.

it hurts when i need to move so bad, usually cause im overwhelmed by either my surroundings or emotions, that i thrash and hurt myself.

it hurts that i cant be in places that are too loud or too bright, which on bad days can be as simple as a small, quiet noise or dim lights.

it hurts that i struggle to tell when im hungry, thirsty, tired, etc. so i can’t properly take care of myself. it doesn’t help my insomnia and i get very nauseas and get UTIs.

i 100% believe in autism acceptance. i don’t want a cure. but i also want us the acknowledge that it can hurt. it doesn’t mean my entire life will hurt, but some parts will. and i want a community where we can see both sides, see the hurt, and celebrate it anyway.

do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets

her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.

remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.

thank you, Marsha. we remember you.

When you're autistic, it's impossible to miss how much society normalizes child abuse.

I could dedicate my entire life to studying how to interact with people and I'd still never master the social skills that young children are expected to have on command.

Say the wrong thing? That's disrespectful and you're punished. And you don't even have to actually say anything wrong. Pretty much anything you say can be considered "giving lip" if your parent wants some excuse to punish you. But if you say nothing, then you get punished for ignoring. You also have to calculate your response to their mind game quickly because taking too long to respond is considered ignoring. Also, if you're being wrongly accused of something, saying nothing is considered a confession. And even if you somehow manage to say exactly what your parent wants in exactly the correct tone, they'll still punish you for "sarcasm" or "not really meaning it".

is anyone ready to talk about the pipeline from “knew he was a killer first time that i saw him / wondered how many girls he had loved and left haunted / but if he’s a ghost, then i can be a phantom” to “my beloved ghost and me / sitting in a tree / d-y-i-n-g”… or is it still too soon?

*going to a festival that celebrates what has for a long time been considered sexual degeneracy by society* Oh boy I sure hope I don’t encounter anything that society views as sexually degenerate!

actually fucking insane I have to beg for basic human things like attention and communication from my family. these people are insane

A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes to the monastery, knocks on the door, and says, “My car broke down. Do you think I could stay the night?” The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound. The next morning, he asks the monks what the sound was, but they say, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.” The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks accept him, feed him, even fix his car. That night, he hears the same strange noise that he had heard years earlier. The next morning, he asks what it is, but the monks reply, “We can’t tell you. You’re not a monk.” The man says, “All right, all right. I’m *dying* to know. If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?” The monks reply, “You must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.” The man sets about his task. Forty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, “I have traveled the earth and have found what you have asked for. There are 145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.” The monks reply, “Congratulations. You are now a monk. We shall now show you the way to the sound.” The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, “The sound is right behind that door.” The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He says, “Real funny. May I have the key?” The monks give him the key, and he opens the door. Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone. The man demands the key to the stone door. The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it. Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire. So it went until the man had gone through doors of emerald, silver, topaz, and amethyst. Finally, the monks say, “This is the last key to the last door.” The man is relieved to no end. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is amazed to find the source of that strange sound. But I can’t tell you what it is because you’re not a monk

going from “i wanna teach you how forever feels” and “you and me, forevermore” to “he saw forever, so he smashed it up” is such a punch in the gut

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god