My Friend Just Asked Me Why Im Not Afraid To Risked My Life Because I Earlier I Just Ran Across The Road

My friend just asked me why I’m not afraid to risked my life because I earlier I just ran across the road to get some old lady’s vase that was about to be hit by a car (which I learned later that it’s her late husband’s treasure).

So how do I explain that I’m ready to die at any time? How do I explain that I already write a letter for my friends and family? How do I explain that I’m just too afraid to end my life myself?

My dream

Teacher: What do you want to be in the future?

Friend: A doctor

Friend: An astronaut

Friend: To end world hunger

Me: Dead

Teacher: ....

Everyone: ....

Me: ...preferably anytime soon

Remember when you were picked for teams as a child, and there was always that last child who would be staring at the floor knowing they were going to be last?

That child knew the pain that came from humiliation and loneliness better than they ever should have. Remember that child who spent every lunch time alone in a bathroom stall, or completely changing who they were, to feel accepted into any group they could find?

That child grew up thinking it was normal to be whispered about all day, normal to be pushed into lockers, and normal for people to never be able to love them, and accept them for the way they were.

That child spent the rest of their life trying to heal others, trying to give them love.

And all it did, was leave them empty.

That child was me, and still is. I am now the adult with a broken heart, the adult unsure of finding someone who will love them again. When you have lived your entire life being told you are not good enough, you start to believe it. When you are always that friend willing to go above and beyond for your friend’s happiness, yet they could not care less about you when you are down, you start to believe that’s normal. That child was me, that child will always be me, and I will always have a heart too big for those that don’t deserve it.

Favorite color

Everyone have a favorite color. My mother is purple, my father is navy, my brother is blue, and my sister is yellow.

Mine’s a bit unusual. Weird even. It’s not white or blue, not green or red, not brown or grey. Some say that it’s not even a color.

The color of my parents’ eyes when they see me. The color of the voices that haunt me in my dreams. The color of the ink I used to write my bio. The color of my grades. The color of my 7 year-old self's eyes if they could see me now.

The color of failure. My favorite color. Disappointment.

no offense but bucky not remembering what he does as the winter soldier makes his & sam’s rivalry so much funnier

“Those poor boys”

“She deserves to be punished too.”

“I’m not saying I support rape, but-”

“Sorry to say - she deserved it.”

“She put herself in harm’s way”

“But if she was fingered, then that’s not rape.”

“She ruined their lives.”