Iamnotafryingpan - Closeted Bipedal

Zeus: I can't believe you're late. Where have you been all this time?

Hermes: I had urgent circumstances...

At that time, urgent circumstances:

Text translation:

"Ran khokly (slur for Ukrainians) from their home in Mariupol, and now I'm sitting and resting on my yard. Thank you russian soldiers for such an opportunity. Glory to Russia"

These is yet another example of an ordinary russian person who has nothing to do with politics, just casually moves in into a home of a Ukrainian family who (best case scenario) fled their home.

Crimean Tatar Ismi, mother of nine children, in Krasnovishersk, Molotov region of russia, after being deported from her homeland.

Photographed in 1946.

In 1944, Stalin oversaw the deportation of more than 180 000 Tatars in just three days.

Süß

im so tired of seeing that Ukrainians are "white privileged." WHERE. WHERE THE FUCK. JUST WHERE. Ukrainians and Ukrainian culture whas been OPPRESSED. Ukrainian language and culture has been BANNED from everything by russia CENTURIES AGO. Ukrainian artists and writers have been KILLED AND OPPRESSED AND BANNED from writing literature in Ukrainian. we are literally being KILLED just because we are Ukrainian. what the fuck do you mean by white privilege.

executive dysfunction is legitimately physically uncomfortable. i’ll be trapped between two things, weirdly caught on how-much-time-it-might-take-me. i take hours worried im going to take hours doing things. i’ll sit on the floor for the entire day, caught up in the middle of not-doing the chores i actually do want to be doing.

& the amount of mental energy that goes into it. & the legitimate amount of anger and discomfort and self-hate. is not “being lazy”.  it’d be a lot less work if i didn’t have to fight myself to just get up and do it. 

i just need you to understand it’s not effortless. it’s never effortless. it’s not “okay let me just get up and finally start doing this.” it’s more like. i am slamming my foot on the pedal but the car is in neutral and nothing is moving. it’s more like shouting instructions into a dying telephone. it’s more like being trapped in a small electric box, and someone who hates me is administering shocks. 

im trying. im trying. please help me get up.