I’m saying if you don’t have a way to get self worth from yourself then you will be stuck dependent on your partner, and they will not always be able to provide that. It’s a skill that you need to be in a functional relationship.

Allow me to paint a picture:

In your heart, you’ve got a little cup full of love. Sounds like yours is running on fumes.

Your hope is that someone else will fill this cup for you. But I’m saying you need to learn to fill it yourself first. Why?

Because love isn’t a free refill station—it’s an exchange. We trade sips from one another’s heart cups. Some people need a big sip. Some barely need any at all. Must be nice… 😒

So if you meet someone with a big, full cup, ready to share—what do you have to give them? If you don’t know how to refill your own, that love becomes a finite resource. Your partner pours into you, but you have nothing to pour back. And eventually, that drains them. It doesn’t lead to happiness—it leads to burnout, imbalance, and a slow spiral back to despair.

This is why you need a source from within. Not because love doesn’t exist. But because the best love is shared, not depended on.

No. You can learn to love yourself when you’re depressed. The two are not mutually exclusive.

There’s nuance to the idea that you need to love yourself before loving someone else.

At its core, it means this: Nobody is responsible for your happiness but you.

When someone lacks self-love and enters a relationship, they often rely on their partner as their source of self-worth. This isn’t just unfair—it’s unsustainable and often leads to heartbreak.

To put it another way, you need to fill your own cup. You can’t walk around empty, expecting someone else to keep pouring into you indefinitely. That’s not their job, and trying to take it on is exhausting, leading to burnout and relationship failure.

The truth is, you have to learn how to be happy alone. A relationship isn’t about making each other happy; it’s about supporting and loving one another in a way that fosters self-love, allowing both people to grow into their fullest potential.

As far as I understand the second amendment, any unmarked ice officer walking up on people in castle doctrine states are like, very legitimate results of the 2a. Especially right now. Super reasonable.

I kinda hope Luigi being declared guilty cause a George floyd-esque public response.

Thanks, most of us figured that out in ~2018

What’re you rich?

Eating McDonald’s for 3 meals a day every day would be between $5k and $15k per year.

Cash.

So, that would represent about $10k-$30k of your pre-taxed Income

This was comedy a couple weeks ago.

We should throw him a tea party.

“Heil” translates to “Hail”, and these folks are – believe it or not – not German.

Thousands of exhibits showing how sundials work, or how any other non-clock time-keeping mechanisms work, would immediately reveal something is amiss.

The number of people that would set their microwave timer for 1 minute at that exact moment and see that it finished and see that it was 2 minutes later would be significant.

The number of text conversations where people send half sentences constantly, time logs.

Any chatrooms chat logs. Just all suddenly missing a minute. During heated debates.

There are so many non-clock related instances of time tracking that exist within rigid time frames, globally…

Youd have dozens of social media posts showing the same anomaly. At the same time.

I give it ~3-4 hours before it is trending globally, maximum.

🤯

I would fucking love to see Zuckerberg punch Elon in the mouth oh my God.

I was bored at work today so I wrote a short story about how I’d ideally like to see Donald Trump go down.

…drowning in eggs:

The once-proud leader, now stripped of title and dignity, stands in the center of the barren, concrete abyss. The abandoned Olympic swimming pool—thirty feet deep, dry as bone—has become their final stage. Above, the gathered masses stretch in every direction, a writhing sea of anticipation.

They do not jeer. They do not boo.

They simply chant.

“Eggs. Eggs. Eggs.”

It starts as a murmur, a low thrum of human voices vibrating in unison. Then it grows, swelling into a deafening roar that rattles windows, that shudders in the bones of every person present. A chant as ancient as it is absurd, a single-minded invocation of punishment.

The first egg arcs high overhead, tracing a lazy curve before splattering against the fallen leader’s shoulder. The yolk bursts, oozing down his baggy, ugly, now-useless suit. A streak of yellow, the first of many.

Another egg. Then another.

Then dozens.

The first impacts make them flinch, stagger—hands raised in a futile shield. But soon there are too many to dodge, too many to deflect. They curl inward as the sky rains viscous judgment. The chant never stops.

“Eggs. Eggs. Eggs.”

Shells crack. Yolk drips. The scent of sulfur and shame thickens in the stagnant air. It coats their skin, their hair, their pride, turning them into something less than human. Something… egg-like.

At the top of the pit, a child—no older than seven—steps forward. They hold their egg with both hands, cradling it like something precious. Reverent. With a deliberate motion, they lob it downward. It strikes the leader square on the forehead, exploding with an almost musical plap. The crowd erupts into a fresh crescendo of cheers, but the chant never falters.

“Eggs. Eggs. Eggs.”

No escape. No reprieve. The pit is smooth concrete, slick now with raw egg and humiliation. They can do nothing but stand there, endure, become part of the ritual.

Somewhere in the throng, a vendor hawks boiled eggs. Another sells cartons to the unprepared. A man in a chicken suit waves encouragingly at the crowd.

The night wears on, but the spectacle does not end.

It cannot end.

Not until the last egg is thrown. Not until the last voice is hoarse.

Not until the world is rid of this one, failed leader, broken not by swords or exile, but by the inescapable weight of public yolk and scorn.

“Eggs. Eggs. Eggs.”

“aid we’ve sent” this language doesn’t explain to the brainwashed that this is money in our pockets.

When we “send 1 billion in aid”, it usually means the US govt bought $1B of weapons from an American manufacturer and is delivering it to Ukraine.

That isn’t $1B for Ukraine, it’s $1B for us and $1B worth of guns for Ukraine.

I want to get off Mr bones wild ride.

I hope those who bullied her are left haunted by their actions for the rest of their lives. I hope those parents who raised those bullies get some kind of justice served, but I’m not holding my breath.

It all feels so hopeless to feel anger towards these people, but I can’t help it. I hope they have long, pitiful lives filled to the absolute brim with misery.

☹️

It’s currently all about shock and awe. You’ve got the right approach.

This is them laying cards on the table, nothing more. Yet.

My fuckin zucchini is wrapped in plastic.

My bananas have a plastic ribbon around them.

I buy these PLASTIC smoke filters to exhale bong smoke through, so it doesn’t stink up my place as badly. They come in PLASTIC packaging, which is the WRAPPED IN PLASTIC, and the PUT IN A PLASTIC BAG.*

There’s SO many places to fight plastic that make so much more sense.

Straws isn’t it, fam. Plastic straws are the tits. Paper straws suck butts.

McDonald’s in my area went from paper cups and plastic straws to plastic cups and paper straws. Huge L.

I am a leftie nature lover, in full support of plastic straws. Let’s decimate the plastic industry, and keep straws, 3d printing materials, lawn furniture, medical supplies, and infrastructure. Deal?