tumangodeconfinaza

🥭u---quericoundiez--- no tengo dudas, pero tampoco tengo dudas

[tumangodeconfinaza @mangurri44]

TWITTER, PLS BASTA DE SUFRIR LA MISMA OPRESIÓN AÑO TRAS AÑO, HOY ES EL DÍA DONDE LA SOCIEDAD DICE NO, NO A DEJARTE LAS MANOS PRINGOSAS AL TENER QUE QUITAR TAL BAZOCIA
#NOMASFRUTAESCARCHADA

[no me llamo vicenta @kansaita_]

resulta que con toda la movida de la Roro la gente se ha ido a las marcas que colaboran con ella A QUEJARSE y las marcas están desactivando los comentarios..... hacedlo con todos por favor necesito ver la caída de los influencers con mis propios ojos

[M Bleu @soymbleu]

Amo que nuestra generación haya podido romper con el prejuicio de que si estabas tatuado no ibas a conseguir trabajo. Ahora nadie puede conseguir trabajo, no importa si estas tatuado o no

[WALKER🪂 @maxl1am]

me when i accidentally make fake scenarios in my head and hurt my feelings

[ᴅɪᴇɢᴏ @diegoacst]

así se siente saber que el tercer album de olivia rodrigo viene en camino

[tumangodeconfinaza @mangurri44]

ALGUIEN PUEDE EXPLICARME POR QUÉ HAY MÁS ATASCO EN EL BUSVAO QUE EN LA A-6?!?!!

[Memes UNA @memes_una]

Yo en clase haciendole una foto a la pizarra sabiendo perfectamente que jamás en mi vida voy a volver a ver esa foto

[Miilato @miiilato]

how it feels as an adult to revisit the classic books and poems you were taught in class now with fresh eyes and life experience:

[Lexa @Lexax96]

la vida si los auriculares con batería baja no usaran los últimos minutos repitiendo low batery y dejaran escuchar música en paz

[tumangodeconfinaza @mangurri44]

Me estoy comiendo unas pasas tan grandes que son un pasote

[Pritika @pritika_9]

Unpopular opinion: Late replies shouldn’t be treated as an automatic red flag. We should normalise them. When someone takes a while to respond, it usually just means they’re either genuinely busy, low on social energy, handling their priorities and responsibilities, or quietly working through something mental/emotional. It’s not always about you.

[susa @prinkasusa]

i don't know who needs to hear this but in order to become a better person, you must first realize how horrible you really are. not in the dramatic sense, but in the quiet ways you sabotage yourself, repeat unhealthy patterns, hurt people who care about you, or tolerate what wounds you. you cannot grow if you keep pretending you’re innocent in the story you created

[positivity moon @arrtnem]

Not the big “I was crying every day” depression. The quiet kind where you keep functioning, keep replying, keep showing up, keep making jokes, keep paying bills, and you don’t even realize how dead your inner world got until something turns the lights back on and you’re standing there like… oh. This is what it feels like when the room has oxygen.

Eight weeks in and suddenly you’re saying “coffee is good” like you just discovered fire.

it sounds funny, until you remember what it takes to make a person forget that coffee tastes good. Like, that is not a minor glitch. your brain being so starved of reward and softness that even basic pleasures stopped landing. Not “sad.” More like muted. Flat. Everything technically fine, but nothing hits. You could have a decent day and it would still feel like chewing cardboard.

I feel you

You’re in your kitchen at some normal time, 09:14, light coming in through the window, and you pour coffee and you catch the smell and for the first time in a long time it actually registers as pleasant. Not intellectually. In the body. You take a sip and there’s that small warm yes. Your shoulders drop without you asking them to. And you just stand there holding the mug like it’s proof of something.

Because it is.

proof you were way more depressed than you admitted to yourself.

Depression lies by making itself feel like your personality. It makes gray feel normal. It makes “I don’t care” feel like maturity. It makes numb feel like stability. It makes survival feel like a lifestyle. And because you’re still working, still talking, still laughing at the right moments, nobody panics. You don’t panic either. You just assume this is adulthood now. This is what it feels like to be “realistic.”

Then medication works, or sleep improves, or the fog lifts for whatever reason, and you realize you were living in a version of reality that was missing whole colors.

you start noticing tiny things and it feels almost embarrassing.

A song hits harder. Food tastes like something. The shower feels good instead of just a chore. You walk into your house and you get that weird thought, I love my house. Not because it is a mansion. Not because it is perfect. Just because it’s yours and it holds you. That thought lands and you almost want to cry because you realize you’ve been living in the same place for months like it was a waiting room.

specific grief in that.

Grief for the weeks where you were alive but not really in your own life. Grief for the version of you who couldn’t feel any of this and still kept going. Grief for how normal it felt to move through your days without pleasure, like you were built to endure rather than enjoy.

rage hiding under it.

Like, wait. So this whole time I was judging myself for not being grateful, not motivated, not disciplined, not present, when my brain chemistry was literally preventing my reward system from doing its job. I was blaming my character for a physiological state.

cruelest part of functional depression. It doesn’t come with a dramatic signal. It comes with a slow theft. You do not notice the water boiling because it boils one degree at a time.

Then one day you’re like, “coffee is good.”

And you realize you were in hell.

no the fire and screaming hell. The beige hell. The hell of “nothing matters but I’ll still do everything I’m supposed to.” The hell of answering texts like customer support. The hell of living in a house you don’t feel. The hell of having friends you love but being unable to access the feeling of loving them. The hell of being technically fine while your inner self is quietly starving.

that it captures how simple the return is.

It’s not “I found my purpose.”

It’s “life can be enjoyable.”

the actual miracle. Not the motivational poster stuff. Just enjoyment returning like a muscle you thought you lost.

it can feel almost manic at first, not in a clinical sense, just in contrast. Like, why am I smiling at a tree. 👇

[Vanesa Regalado @VanesaRegaladoV]

La carta a los Reyes Magos más antigua que se conserva hasta la fecha, la escribió la niña Amalia Yebra, en Almería, un 14 de diciembre de 1899.

Amalia pedía una muñeca de china, una caja de dulce y un cabá.

Terminaba la carta con un "deseo que me traigan todo lo que les pido".

[miya @miyarah_]

yo cuando el aleatorio me tira justo la canción que quería escuchar