

I always preferred Garbage Time, his car channel. Dude’s hilarious.


I always preferred Garbage Time, his car channel. Dude’s hilarious.


Post10 is so wholesome. His enthusiasm for everything he sees and does always makes me feel calm and happy.


Autopilot. That’s what I started calling it for lack of a better term. It’s like my consciousness moves to the back of my skull and I’m watching myself interact with the world as if following a script.
For me it’s derealization/depersonalisation (I always confuse the two) caused by complex trauma. Any social interaction can trigger it so I tend to avoid people now.


Toxic people mistake kindness for weakness and you just told on yourself, assuming everyone thinks the way you do.


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There is/was this guy who would make really intricate linoleum tiles with meticulously cut out texts describing his delusional ideas about conspiracies around resurrecting dead people. It’s seriously wild stuff.
He made it his life’s mission to spread this idea by distributing those tiles across a large area around Philadelphia but eventually covering a large part of the east coast. He covered the back of the tiles in tar and found an ingenious way of depositing them on busy roads, where other cars would then drive over them and firmly imbed them in the asphalt.
While that in and of itself would probably be classified more as a mental illness than a hobby, it did sprout a community of people who went to spot these tiles on the streets to document and map them. It is also believed that some copycats have emerged over the years.
There’s an amazing documentary about it called “Resurrect Dead: The Mystery of the Toynbee Tiles”. I highly recommend it.


Wanna split a kilo?
I’d feel pissed off more than anything. I don’t know your situation obviously but my mother would be aggressively pushy like this and the best solution for me was to stop telling her shit about my life.
Things greatly improved when I did that.


Yeah, Victorian industrial is where it’s at. Especially if it looks a bit run down and has faded lettering still barely visible on the bricks.


The Bad Place theme song!
There have been some very helpful replies already so I’m just going to add this:
Imagine if your kids came to you and told you they were depressed (if you don’t have kids, imagine you do and you love them very much).
Then imagine that -of all the things you could possibly say to them- you chose to tell them what your mother told you.
How would you feel about yourself as a parent (or even as a human being) if you did that? Essentially calling your own children worthless for being sick?
It’s ok to feel that same way about your mother.