a present for coro!!, he sang the acustic versons and the accual songs "Boys will be bugs" and "Dear" by cavetown. he has many orginal songs as well so, if you can, go cheak out his youtube channle!!!
Coro!!, if you see this, I hope you know that you are so very talented and that you are worth something no matter what others tell you.
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Rise Ramblings #325
So, we also know that this boy is bad at basketball.
Like, really bad.
Yeah, th-that was just terrible.
But, it made me think.
How is this ninja scientist so bad at this game? It’s just hand-eye coordination, after all.
I mean...
His shots aren't terrible, but they just bounce right off the hoop/backboard. It's almost as if he's aiming at a target-
So, wait. What’s the difference between basketball and pizza darts?
...the arc. Arcing the ball requires a light hand. In other words, it requires restraint.
I believe, that Donatello has great aim, but is terrible at restraint because, when he tries to toss something, it misses the mark.
But, when he throws something...
it’s deadly.
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toppling.
to the people, who made me feel like i was worth nothing... and then worth something.
every step we take along the path of growing up is traumatic. it shocks you to the core. it’s disastrous as we take our first three steps forward at the age of one, feet wobbling as we topple into our parents’ arms.
but it isn’t that easy. it isn’t as easy as a straight concrete path with stones melded into the ground, it isn’t as easy as what you think it’d be.
because the ones that build up the path of your life, are the ones who could inherently harm you the most.
life isn’t a straight road. it isn’t the highway, it isn’t even a gray dusty path with asphalt that you can kick and gravel that you can feel underneath your toes. life isn’t a bright, buttery polished road of marble or steel.
instead, life is a cobblestone path of pebbles, and the ones that you trust and hold on to the most, could send you toppling over your mental cliff… until them.
i gave them my trust, and they held my hand over the pathway that we walked on together for years. i wished it would never end… but it did, and i didn’t know until the last second.
i paid no attention to the increasing steepness of my winding cobblestone path. i let it lead me, deeper and deeper down into the darkness of the woods. i still put all true faith in them, trusting that they’d never let me fall.
but halfway through the ride, one stone gave way, one stone fell, rolling back down the road. and slowly, it became three. then five, then ten. until i couldn’t ignore it anymore. i hoped it’d just be okay. my bold, fearless steps became timid, tiny tiptoes – until even that didn’t work anymore. with one step over the edge, i fell to the ground, and they fled away.
i watched their dainty feet – clip, clop. clip, clop. they tread into the distance until i could no longer see them from where i sat, hurt, on the floor. they were the ones that hurt me. more items than i could ever count. but it wasn’t that one major fall that caused our friendship to fail. it was the many, hundreds and thousands of cuts they added upon me over the years, it was the invisible scars that hurt the most.
i put all my trust in them, but all they did was prove that they didn’t deserve my trust. they showed me that the amount of forgiveness i gave them was way more than what they needed from me. because that day, when i sat there staring at their retreating silhouettes with crimson red pouring from my wounds, i understood that they never cared, and would never care, about me at all.
and then i met you. i met you in the dark, at the end of the tunnel. i met you when i was crying alone. you helped me up, and you never let me fall again. the signals were weird and extremely mixed, yet i loved you so much nonetheless. maybe after that one fall, you would be my salvation and my pride. maybe you’d let go of my hand at times, but i had true utter faith in you being there to catch me whenever i’d fall. maybe you’d just look on from a distance with those hearts in your eyes and a faint smile on your face, maybe i’d try to look away from you.
but deep down inside, i knew – it’d always be you. forever and always. from the start, it has always been you. when i said goodbye to you, i was always hoping it wouldn’t be forever. i walked alone on the brightened road in the day, trusting that you’d be there in the night. and you were… until one day, not anymore.
it was that fateful day that made me realize that i didn’t deserve you, and that you deserved more. maybe you’d finally left to find the solace you deserved. maybe i caused you so much pain, so much hatred, in exchange for the blush creeping onto my cheeks whenever i’m around you. and it was that one night without you that i cried myself to sleep once again, knowing that i could never, ever live without you.
and then they came toppling back. and then they came, asking for forgiveness. i tried to turn a side-eye, but i know that you’d never approve. so i let them back in.
the night marked your presence – or rather the lack thereof. i spent the whole night thinking about you, while they gossiped about you. i spent the whole night imagining that you were here with me, when you in fact weren’t, and i was alone in this damn cage of a life, alone with them.
the dawn came. and i did what was right, since they’d never understand – or a better phrasing, she’d never understand, the other one did.
and i said hi to you. you turned, and said hi back to me.
“i can’t live without you.”
“i also can’t.”
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you were raised in comparison.
it wasn't always obvious (well. except for the times that it was), but you internalized it young. you had to eat what you didn't like, other people are going hungry, and you should be grateful. you had to suck it up and walk on the twisted ankle, it wasn't broken, you were just being a baby. you were never actually suffering, people obviously had it worse than you did.
you had a roof over your head - imagine! with the way you behaved, with how you talked back to your parents? you're lucky they didn't kick you out on your ass. they had friends who had to deal with that. hell, you have friends who had to deal with that. and how dare you imply your father isn't there for you - just because he doesn't ever actually talk to you and just because he's completely emotionally checked out of your life doesn't mean you're not fucking lucky. think about your cousins, who don't even get to speak to their dad. so what if yours has a mean streak; is aggressive and rude. at least you have a father to be rude to you.
you really think you're hurting? you were raised in a home! you had access to clean water! you never so much as came close to experiencing a real problem. sure, okay. you have this "mental illness" thing, but teenagers are always depressed, right. it's a phase, you'll move on with your life.
what do you mean you feel burnt out at work. what do you mean you mean you never "formed healthy coping mechanisms?" we raised you better than that. you were supposed to just shoulder through things. to hold yourself to high expectations. "burning out" is for people with real jobs and real stress. burnout is for people who have sick kids and people who have high-paying jobs and people who are actually experiencing something difficult. recently you almost cried because you couldn't find your fucking car keys. you just have lost your sense of gratitude, and honestly, we're kind of hurt. we tell you we love you, isn't that enough? if you want us to stick around, you need to be better about proving it. you need to shut up about how your mental health is ruined.
it could be worse! what if you were actually experiencing executive dysfunction. if you were really actually sick, would you even be able to look at things on the internet about it? you just spend too much time on webMD. you just like to freak yourself out and feel like you belong to something. you just like playing the victim. this is always how you have been - you've always been so fucking dramatic. you have no idea how good you have it - you're too fucking sensitive.
you were like, maybe too good of a kid. unwilling to make a real fuss. and the whole time - the little points, the little validations - they went unnoticed. it isn't that you were looking for love, specifically - more like you'd just wanted any one person to actually listen. that was all you'd really need. you just needed to be witnessed. it wasn't that you couldn't withstand the burden, but you did want to know that anyone was watching. these days, you are so accustomed to the idea of comparison - you don't even think you belong in your own communities. someone always fits better than you do. you're always the outlier. they made these places safe, and then you go in, and you are just not... quite the same way that would actually-fit.
you watch the little white ocean of your numbness lap at your ankles. the tide has been coming in for a while, you need to do something about it. what you want to do is take a nap. what you want to do is develop some kind of time machine - it's not like you want your life to stop, not completely, but it would really nice if you could just get everything to freeze, just for a little while, just until you're finished resting. but at least you're not the worst you've been. at least you have anything. you're so fucking lucky. do you have any concept of the amount of global suffering?
a little ant dies at the side of your kitchen sink. you look at its strange chitinous body and think - if you could just somehow convince yourself it is enough, it will finally be enough and you can be happy. no changes will have to be made. you just need to remember what you could lose. what is still precious to you.
you can't stop staring at the ant. you could be an ant instead of a person, that is how lucky you are. it's just - you didn't know the name of the ant, did you. it's just - ants spend their whole life working, and never complain. never pull the car over to weep.
it's just - when it died, it curled up into a tight little ball.
something kind of uncomfortable: you do that when you sleep.
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