Noosance:

rejuvination

I know I haven’t posted in quite sometime. There’s been an up and down rollercoaster in my life lately that I’ve never really even known before… but I’ve fallen in love with an amazing man, and I’ve got to say, by far, I know its going to blow every single other christmas present I’ve got coming right out of the water! I love you, baby.

formspring comment:

briehab:

Dear Briehab,
I feel strongly that you must start quoting your sources. Lets put it this way, if you say decided to post some “artsy” pictures that you really liked online wouldn’t you want to feel as if that carefully thought out piece was displayed for the joy of art wouldn’t you want to feel it was safe? Like, that you would get credit for thinking it all out. By not linking pictures and deleting your reblogs you are destroying that artist. Sure, they are getting exposure and you may like the way it looks but it is not yours to post. Not with out the proper recognition that is, its like that thing called rights, they keep people from getting hurt.
just consider it.
 _______________________________________________________________

I don’t take any credit for the pictures in my posts. I don’t post sources because I’m posting these pictures for my personal fulfillment… I’m not really into the blog savvy thing where you have to methodically browse the internet, find a picture, copy paste the source link, then upload the picture. I just click save as and upload it a week, or maybe a month later so I can see it on my blog.

However, I would like to clarify this whole “rights” thing. This is the INTERNET people! Once you post something online, unless you watermark the photo/put proper copyright restrictions on the piece of writing, it WILL be reproduced and others will copy paste it! I think other artist’s are complete ameature idiots to believe that their work is going to be “safe” or whatever you called it if they post it to the internet. If you’re an artist, and you want your work properly credited, don’t post it to the internet at all.

Once you post something to the internet, it isn’t truly “yours” anymore, unfortunately. There will be those that try to claim it as “theirs” and that’s why there’s this sudden uproar in plagerism in our society. So I don’t agree with you on that whole spiel on “safe” work and what not.

I’m not going to waste my time trying to find all the source links to the pictures I post right now because I find them all over the internet and simply right-click and “save as” them. Although, when I do reblog, I’ll be sure to keep the links.

Thanks for your insight.

 Dear Briehab: you don’t believe in sourcing because you keep taking things from others. You’ve taken one of my posts without sourcing as well. It’s not difficult to source things. It’s mandatory at interlake, so I know you know how. Try it. Fighting it doesn’t make you an individual, intelligent, or clever. It makes you a bitch.

I haven’t taken my anti-depressant in two days, and haven’t been on the pill for a month. I’ve been either eating 500 calories or so a day, or eating four-five of the biggest and most fattening meals I can find. Today, I walked 6 miles or so, and yesterday, after getting home from my boyfriend’s, I didn’t move an inch.

For months and months I’ve been spending every paycheck and gift card on shoes, clothes, make-up, handbags, wallets, and jewelry. Improving, as I realized for the first time today, every little thing on the outside that I feel doesn’t live up to par. All throughout school, everyone had labels, and fancy clothes on a monday, and high heels right after gym, and bags so nice that they kept them in their car - even though they had already traded in their backpack for a large, brighty colored purse.

I’ve compromised every single moral I created for myself in order to jump from social group to social group. I’ve smoked behind behind grocery stores, on front porches, and in parking garages with the stoners. I’ve drank in friend’s basements, older men’s bedrooms, and front lawns with the partiers. I’ve studied in libraries and after-school groups with the smart kids, I’ve participated in after-school volunteer groups and gone on volunteer trips to New Orleans with the over-acheivers, I’ve gone shopping with the pretty kids, ran away with the angry kids, climbed out my window, threatened my parents, been in and out of psych’s offices and recited several police reports. I’ve had a 4.0 and a 1.5 and I’ve lived everywhere from D.C., to L.A., to Costa Rica. I’ve had blonde hair, brown hair, red hair, black hair, been 180 pounds, and 100 pounds. I’ve been a fuck buddy, a best friend, a back-stabber, a committed girlfriend, a role model, an older sister, a perfect daughter, and just another angry, empty, sunken face in this large, over-stuffed building that is insistent on being called “home”.

But now I can’t help but keep asking… why? Who am I now? Where do I go from here? How do I know… which of those was right and which was wrong? Why do I care?… Should I?

I’ve met a man. I’ve met a man, and I’ve fallen in love. I’ve shared with him all that he’s asked, and all that I’ve felt, and all that I can. He knows everything from the rape heard around the world, my eating disorders, my problems with friends, families, and even pets. He knows where my childhood has come and gone to, and where, roughly, I’d like to go. And he knows that he holds my heart in the palm of his hands, and I know that it’s safer than it’s ever been there.

But is that all I know?… Is he in love with the right person? What does he see? What if I want to become something that he won’t love? What if he wouldn’t be proud of me if I said that the reason I shop so much is because I think that sometimes fixing what’s on the outside is easier than fixing what’s on the inside? What if I told him that some days… maybe I’m not sure if I over reacted? What if I told him that I want to spend the rest of my life with him… but I feel like, honestly, that might be putting him into unknown dangers? What if I told him I couldn’t promise that I could keep his heart as safe, simply because I don’t know what I’m capable of?

It’s a weird place. He’s in a rut that he’s gotten out of before. He knows where his life can go, and he knows where he wants it to be and not be.

…But I’ve simply no clue. What if it breaks us? What if I lose the one person I’ve ever been able to be honest to?.. Be completely myself around? Even if I don’t know sometimes who that is, he does. He knows. And he accepts it. He accepts me. HE acceptes me.

The girl who’s gone from popular to outcasted in the blink of an eye. Who’s hated by a local society and doesn’t always understand whether or not I’m allowed to be upset about it. I don’t know what people think or say or if it’s true or if I should be angry or accept it. I don’t know. I need help. And I want to tell him that I need help but I need him to not doubt me, and I don’t know if either of us is ready for this.

I need him.

I love him.

I don’t even know how to end this post.

Everybody falls… but contrary to popular belief, not everybody has the courage to get themselves back up.

favorite moment

a couple weekends ago, the boy and I were at his sister’s house with a bunch of relatives, sitting around a bonfire outside, teaching the little ones how to make smores, when the song “orange sky” (dubbed ours) comes on, and I zone out into the fire with a stupid grin on my face because it reminds me of how much I adore him everytime I listen to it. bolting me out of my daze, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from him. I shoot him a confused look, and open it

“I can’t believe how beautiful you look… You’re too perfect.”

My cheeks immediately went red, my grin immediately got bigger (and yes, even more stupid) and his lips immediately met my forehead

I locked it, and now everytime I clean out my texts (which is every 35 or so because my phone’s a peice of shit), it confirms that I want to keep it, and it makes me smile that stupid smile all over again

merricat:

Reblog this saying something nice about someone, anyone.