Kaitie. 27. Michigan. Working Hair Stylist. Wife to a wonderful Husband. Dog Mom. Central Michigan Alum. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."
-Albus Dumbledore
Just thought I’d mention that if you still want the Lying Game renewed you need to turn your TV off (or switch channels) the second Twisted comes on. Every week. Why? Because the Lying Game depends on this. Keep in mind that they’ll renew the show that brings in more money and cancel the one that…
Whenever I go through the “The Lying Game” tag and see that someone just started watching the show, I wonder why the hell they’re doing this to themselves. But then I realize that they don’t know that it’ll probably get canceled and I just want to:
My god, this totally happened to me. I watched it all this weekend, and then found out. I do need that hug.
There’s nothing like feeling out of control. When you could sit there and pull your hair out in frustration of the life you live. And it’s not like anything earth shattering has happened… it’s more like nothing has happened at all. You hope and pray for things to change but time keeps going on and you still feel the same way, and you see no signs for a way out.
There’s nothing like sitting alone, and staring at yourself in a mirror and wondering who the hell you are beyond your exterior. You crave answers of the unknown. Things you thought you longed for disappear, and it leaves you feeling empty and terrified.
There’s nothing like holding the loss of someone in your heart. Whether it’s a loved one, or a lover. The only comfort you find is in distraction. It’s so hard to imagine ever feeling differently. People around you give encouragement, but even though you know they mean well, it never seems to fill the void of the loss.
There’s nothing like longing for hope. You try and hold faith in things that always gave you comfort before, but then you get wiser and wonder constant “what ifs.” All you want is to take that extra step so you’ve finally reached a point where you realize things could get better… but you always seem to be right behind it, staring it in the eye. You can practically hear it screaming “na, na, nah boo boo” in your face.
There’s nothing like wanting to dream. You sit there trying to hold back a dream, scared of another disappointment. But you want to feel like a child again, where you still think anything is possible, and you still have all the time in the world to figure out where your passions are.
If you feel like any of that, you’re not alone. But it’s important to remember that things always get better, because they don’t have a choice not to. We all have our entire lives in front of us, with many years of constant change. Don’t be afraid to be who you are… because if you are, the things that are right for us will always find us in the end. Live to make mistakes, and live to feel hurt as well as love. Because if there wasn’t the bad, the good wouldn’t be so frickin’ great.
"Failure, of course, goes hand in hand with Capitalism. A market economy must have winners and losers, gamblers and risk-takers, con men and dupes; capitalism, as Scott Sandage argues in his book Born Losers: A History of Failures in America, requires that everyone live in a system that equates success with profit and links failure to the inability to accumulate wealth even as profit for one means certain losses for others. As Sandage narrates in his compelling study, losers leave no records, while winners cannot stop talking about it, and so the record of failure is “a hidden history of pessimism within a culture of optimism.” This hidden history of pessimism, a history moreover that lies quietly behind every story of success, can be told a number of different ways; while Sandage tells it as a shadow history of U.S. Capitalism, I tell it here as a tale of anticapitalist, queer struggle. I tell it also as a narrative about anti-colonial struggle, the refusal of legibility, and an art of unbecoming. This is a story without markets, drama without a script, narrative without progress. The queer art of failure turns on the impossible, the improbably, the unlikely, and the unremarkable. It quietly loses, and in losing imagines other goals for life, for love, for art, and for being."
