I Hate My Dad I Hate My Dad I Hate My Dad I Hate My Dad I Hate My Dad I Hate My Dad I Hate My Dad I Hate

nevermind, my family is the walk on eggshells family. its just not all the time. either you have to constantly walk on eggshells the entire day or hours with my father and my mother does nothing about him, or its around both of them, or its around all three of my family members, so my parents and my brother, because my brother will get all touchy and the second i upset him even if its not even my fault i'm getting yelled at.

but like then i think about the kids who have worse off than i do and like...my problems aint that bad. yeah my dad told me im not allowed to say no to him when he wants a hug or anything like that, which is kind of weird but its not like he did anything. yeah, my dad threatens to beat the shit out of me (exact wording) but he only ever hits me when he snaps or when i was younger. yeah my mom told me it would be cheaper if i killed myself but i'm not sure she meant it.

i mean yeah, sometimes they do or say stuff that that really hurts (like today my dad treated me like an inconvenience because right now im on crutches and he even said no matter what i do i'll end up being one because he thought that would make me feel better) but like its not like...they're abusive??? i dont think so i mean yeah some stuff really really sucks and all but they dont hurt me physically

no one will be able to understand how much i absolutely love the first minute of the end of a war to end all wars by sabaton like omfg i love it so much it makes every inch of my brain and everything happy like asrhskjralksjrklasjrkl

the entire song basically but the transition in the beginning...

ww1 <33333333333333333333333333

no i dont love what happened i love history and this song makes every part of me happy

...

ren.

what are you planning..?

Heh

what evil scheme do you have planned...

i love music that leaks through my skull and into my brain

i bet you anytihng though my mom would think of it as awful

shes very picky abt music

lets just pretend it happened in a shorter amount of time in the nation world :D

.....youre kidding me

why did they wait EIGHT YEARS after signing an alliance to go into battle i aint writing eight whole fucking years between them signing an alliance and then them going against plc like no fuck that

teehee youre my favortiest favorite person🩷

hi hi hi hi hi your favoritest idiot is here

HECCC YEA UR MY FAVRIT PERSSOONNNNN❤️❤️❤️❤️

rraaaaa angry bird angry bird

How to Write a Sick Character

╰ First of all — being sick is boring as hell

Nobody tells you that. You think it’s gonna be poetic and tragic and emotionally moving, maybe a few tears on the windowpane and a soft piano soundtrack? Wrong. It’s pacing in a waiting room for two hours to be told to come back next week. It’s reruns of trash TV because your brain fog is so bad you can't even process a podcast. It's Googling "why do my bones hate me" at 3 a.m. and finding nothing helpful, only vibes. So if you're writing a sick character and every scene is Deep and Heavy and Symbolic, I love you but no. Let them be bored. Let them be over it. Let them fall asleep halfway through someone’s big speech.

╰ Second — sickness is basically a toxic relationship with your own body

And wow, the drama is unmatched. One day your character wakes up and thinks, “Maybe today will be normal.” Their body: “Plot twist, bitch.” Now they’re sweating through a hoodie, canceling plans, and pretending they're “just tired” because explaining the truth is somehow more exhausting than the illness itself. Let your character hate their body sometimes. Let them feel betrayed by it. Let them mourn the version of themselves that used to just do things without needing a three-day nap after. But also—let them fight for their body, too. Advocate. Adapt. Try again. Because it’s not all despair. Sometimes it’s really freaking brave just to get out of bed and put on pants.

╰ Third — it’s not cute

Hollywood loves to write illness like it’s an aesthetic. Clean blankets, sad smiles, a gentle cough. Yeah… no. Sometimes it’s vomit in your hair. It’s medical tape pulling off skin. It’s being too tired to shower but still scrolling through memes like your life depends on it. Give us the gross stuff. The embarrassing stuff. The human stuff.

╰ Fourth — let them be funny

Sick people are hilarious. Mostly because we have to be. You’ve got two choices when your body is a disaster zone: laugh, or fully unravel. So we joke about our failing organs. We flirt with the nurse while on IV fluids. We name our medical devices. We send memes from the ER. Let your character joke. Let them be sharp, sarcastic, absurd. Not because they're “taking it well,” but because that’s their armor. Humor is one of the most honest forms of pain. Use it.

╰ Fifth — sick ≠ broken

Please hear this: your character is not less than. They are not just here to suffer and die and inspire others with their angelic perseverance. They’re a person. Maybe a chaos goblin. Maybe a genius. Maybe a mess. Maybe a lover, a fighter, a giant emotional raccoon with a heating pad. Let them live and have goals. Let them chase things. Let them screw up. Let them be loved and desired and complicated. Their illness is part of them, not all of them.

╰ Lastly — don’t wrap it up too clean

Recovery isn’t linear. Some illnesses don’t “end.” And that’s okay. You don’t need a miracle cure in the third act. Sometimes strength is just learning to exist in a different way. Sometimes it’s re-learning how to hope. Sometimes it’s finding a new rhythm instead of forcing the old one to work. Let your character find peace, not perfection. So yeah—if you’re writing a sick character, you’re doing something important. You’re making space for people whose stories rarely get told with truth and teeth and tenderness. Just promise me you won’t turn them into a symbol. Let them be a person. A funny, scared, strong, exhausted, hopeful person. Like the rest of us.

@katrein05 I Hope This Helps a little... :)

Innocence.

Crayons scattered on the floor around a bright-eyed being 

who doesn’t seem to have a worry about where they place their feet.

Running up and down hallways giggling, attempting to escape being caught. 

Chasing butterflies through the grass, bare feet jumping over roots jutting out from the ground. 

You’re told the words ‘Savor your childhood’ without knowing what it means.

What does it mean?They never explained, they simply smiled and said, ‘You’ll see, everyone does’.

It never made sense when it mattered. Why didn’t it?Why couldn’t you have understood? 

Why did you wish so often, telling yourself you couldn’t wait to grow up. 

Everyone says that. 

Then suddenly everyone is scrambling to turn back the clock.

What happened? 

You tell your parents that you’re big and can be ‘like the grownups’ but then suddenly

You wish that they would hold you like a little kid again.

What happened to their gentle smiles as they kneeled down to tie your bright-colored shoes that flashed with light when you stepped so you’d spend your time stomping wherever you could just to see that flash of color.

They didn’t make them in your size anymore. 

What happened to free time after school? Now you’re chained to endless amounts of paper. 

Digital paper.

You’re constantly told ‘You spend too much time on your phone’. Too many screens. 

It’s not like no one tried to make that not happen. We spend our entire lives on a screen. 

Our education now depends on a screen.

Everything seems to depend on a screen no wonder we start to also. 

What happened to counting fake plastic pennies and the colorful cubes to use for math? Now it’s a page put up on a screen that you’re told to write down. Needing help seems like a chore. 

Why ask?Everyone will stare at you. Avoid attention. What happened? 

‘Never be afraid to ask questions.’

But what if those people made you afraid in the first place.

As a child you were convinced that you knew. You knew because you could ask. 

As a teenager.

You pretend to know because the only thing you do know is that you know nothing. 

Not knowing is weakness. 

It’s not endearing.

Innocence wasn’t explained as a child. 

Angels were innocent. 

Someone who didn’t do something bad was innocent.

But you never know the true meaning of innocence until it's ripped away from your hands and you watch life take it away from you when you aren’t ready to think about it being gone. 

That’s what growing up is. 

The loss of innocence.

~~~~~ i don't have a lot of experience with writing poems so apologies if it has poor quality. i'm open to constructive criticism but please do be nice i'm only 14 lol. writing is a passion of mine and i do plan to make more posts involving poetry or other.

actually fucking crying cause what do you mean the thing ive done for years you actually find really annoying and you hate when i do it and when i get upset on the verge of tears over it you get mad at me for not instantly alologizing and now im crying in a gas station bathroom