*through Tears* Ladies And Gentlemen, They Got Him

I remember this story mom told me and my sister when we were little. Two frogs fall into a milk churn, and start swimming to stay on the surface. After a long time, one of the frogs tells the other that it's tired of swimming, and is just going to give up now. The frog sinks and drowns, while the other frog keeps swimming. Eventually the surviving frog that never gave up has been swimming for so long that the milk has been churned into butter, and the frog can hop out. The moral of the story is that life feels hopeless a lot, but if you give in to despair, you fucking die.

I had two aunts from my father's side. I don't remember anything about one of them, she died when I was three years old. We were never lied to about how it happened. She killed herself, jumped out of a window. She gave in to despair. My paternal grandmother lost her mind over the grief, developing dementia overnight. I never knew her as a sane, coherent person. She gave in to the despair. That's what I was taught, that's how I was raised. Life is pain, but if you give in to the despair, you fucking die.

I am an optimist. Always have been. I had to be. Indulging in pessimistic fatalism was a luxury that I could not afford. I'm not an optimist out of some naive lack of awareness that life can be bad sometimes. I grew up very familiar with how bad life can be. I was an optimist in believing - against all the proof of the contrary - that life could be other things, too. That it's possible that there could be a life that doesn't hurt all the time.

I can't afford to be a pessimist. I don't pretend to believe that things will never get bad, but I have no choice but to believe that no matter how bad things will get, there can be good things in life, no matter what. I don't talk to my family anymore, but I did survive being raised by them. The ones who give up hope don't make it. If you let the darkness seep in, and give in to despair, you die.

vox doodle page 💗🦈

"Friends can break your heart too"

unclear instructions Vox now has three mouths

50 years later:

(it's a screenshot, don't come at my throat pls)

Bonus the ugly photo:

You're not immune to being the bully btw. You're not immune to being in the wrong

Smash that mf reblog button if you stoically ignore all labelled washing instructions and everything your mama ever told you about laundry and just send those bastards hurgling around in an overfilled tub to meet either death or glory

2/3 of the Vees | Breakfast AU (Part 4)

Having a mental breakdown listening to their friend scream for 2 days gay

Previous part

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They can't hide from it, they can't do anything. Vox is rethinking everything he knows about Alastor. He can't think of that silly deer guy with stupid radio voice and this monster who right now torturing his friend as one person. This isn't Alastor this is The Radio Demon and Vox just fails to accept that this is the same personperson. Because Vox wasn't around when Alastor used to kill overlords.

Valentino tries to drink himself to death to stop this nightmare at least for himself. Anyway fuck this guy, I'm not sorry for him

Drawing them kinda fun you know, i like their design

[source]

It’s weird that we keep trying to armchair diagnose asshole behaviour with mental health labels and in doing so throw people with mental health conditions under the asshole bus when we could just call a guy an asshole and leave it at that

It just seems far more straightforward, you know