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Table of contents - main page- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
You don't know who is lurking here.
Enter at your own risk.
Touch nothing and nothing touches you.
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Jessica has a forehead scar from the deep end of a pool.
I ask Jessica what drowning feels like, and she says not everything feels like something else.
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Do you believe in love at first sight — or should I take another selfie?
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justmelookingbackatme (tumblr):
Error
I know some aros find it painful to say I love you, but it doesn't feel that way for me. I lie so effortlessly that it doesn't hurt. I'm very aware that it's false, but the words still slip past my lips with ease.
I love you doesn't hurt, it just feels inauthentic. I say it, and I feel nothing, and a little error message pops up in the corner of my brain to say this statement is factually incorrect. I don't mind the error messages. I click on the little X in the top right corner. It's another part of my routine; I say I love you, I see the error message, I X out of it.
It's a mild inconvenience. It's nothing I can't handle.
When I say I love you, I don't feel like a person. I feel like a machine whose creator wanted it to love, but they fucked up the programming, and every time they try to run the code they get that goddamn error message. I say I love you, and I become very aware of the fact that I'm a robot who doesn't work the way it's supposed to.
And then I click the little X, and I'm a human again. The feeling is gone. I'm alright. A little error message is far from the worst thing I have to manage. I can live this lie for the rest of my life, no problem.
I'm not in any pain. I can easily survive this inconvenience. But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to say the word love and not have an error message take over the screen of my life. Sometimes I wonder if whoever programmed me fixed their mistake, and maybe this time when they run the code, I'll work.
So I try again. I love you.
ERROR: this statement is factually incorrect.
ERROR: you are incapable of love. stop lying.
ERROR: you are a broken machine.
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I once saw the face of God, a vast and sudden silence among the noisy heavens.
That evening I dreamt I listened to one side of a conversation I should not have overheard.
I do not watch the skies anymore.
I do not look up.
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You should know that there is something worse than hate and that is unlove.
Because hate is anger over something lost, hate is passion, hate is misguided, it's caring for the wrong things but it is still caring.
But unlove, unlove is to unkiss, to unremember, to unhold, to undream, to undo everything that ever was and leave smooth stone behind in its wake.
No fire. No fury. Just, nothing.
And that is worse than hate.
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You are unique but not special.
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pov:
It started out as an innocent crush.
You only get to see them after class, but you wanted to see them more. You found yourself following
them to their house. You just wanted to be around them more. That's all.
You took a group picture and realized that you want more pictures of them. Only some. You took them with their consent of course, but it wasn't enough you
need more. You need the ones they won't agree to.
You got a smell of their hair, and "consequently" found the same shampoo they used, buying enough to last the year.
They left their sweater in their classroom. You were going to return it but it's better to keep it. You started looking for more of their things.
It always starts out as an innocent crush.
Your friend introduced you to this new person. They were always nice to you, some even said they had a major crush on you.
You started seeing them more often, it was cute at first. But now it's almost like they are following you. Everywhere you go you feel eyes watching your
every move. Maybe it was just all in your head... right?
They started asking to take pictures of you for their art project, which sounds normal until you find out they don't take any art classes. You start to say
no to the pictures, but you swear you still hear the clicks of the camera at night... Please say it is just the wind.
Took a trip to your usual store. Despite how unpopular it is, it seemed to run out of all your favorite scented shampoo. Oddly enough they reeked of that
same sweet-scented shampoo.... it just has to be a coincidence.
In a rush you left one of your favorite sweaters in the classroom, you went back to find it only for it to be missing. Days later you find it in their
locker along with other things that you thought you lost.
This was never an innocent crush... I'm being stalked.
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and when I’m lying in my bed, I think about life and I think about death, and neither one particularly appeals to me.
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The stars were falling, and the night sky was beautiful.
But there was no home here.
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No matter how hard you try, you will never be stranger than what the world considers normal.
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Surprising, right?
I mean, Stargirl. Courtney Whitmore. The most teenybopper character in the DC line-up. A blonde haired, blue eyed, mouthy high school cheerleader who talks like a 1990s Valley Girl.
So why do I like her?
It’s worth noting, Stargirl is something of a memorial to DC Editor and Chief Geoff John’s sister, who died in a plane crash. Courtney is a direct reflection of his sister’s personality.
She is also tied into a lot of cool stuff dating all the way back to earliest the Golden Age of comics. The 1990s cult masterpiece Starman establishes that the “Star” title is a legacy dating back to Ted Knight, the first Starman. He was a character from the original JSA series published in the 1940s.
This means a few things for Stargirl. She may very well live a full life. To date, pretty much all JSAers age with time. Generational transition is pretty much the core of the Star tradition. They’ve already announced her successor. Her little sister is set to become Starwoman and exceed her exploits in heroing.
Unlike Supergirl or Batgirl and their continually inevitable return to their late teens and early 20s, Stargirl will very likely age, mature, maybe even grow old and die.
That’s an intriguing idea and one rarely explored in comics.
The Star characters are also pretty odd and unique. Ted Knight was an unlikeable academic who often mocked and condescended towards other heroes. He eventually suffered a mental breakdown over his role in the Manhattan Project and the development of nuclear weapons. His son David was killed on his first day as Starman, but found a time travel loophole allowing him to hero briefly and anonymously in a past era. Jack Knight inherited the job from his brother, but always preferred to run his antique shop. There were other Starmen. Otherworldly princes from far away galaxies. An alien warrior turned disco cocaine addict. Starwoman. Cosmic Boy in the Legion of Superheroes of the 31st Century.
Courtney’s working class, Golden Age roots mirror a lot of early comic tough ladies. Stargirl isn’t rich. Her powers are pretty mediocre. She isn’t a brilliant inventor or alien space god.
Instead, she relies on her wits and a ton of hard work to figure it out. For example, she once defeated a sentient computer virus that easily bested and nearly killed the most tech savvy members of the JSA by simply unplugging the computer and magnetizing the hard drives. That’s the kind of straight line thinking that gets results.
She can’t always punch, kick, or technology her way out of trouble. She isn’t the fastest, strongest, smartest, or richest. She just does what the rest of us do. She figures it out.
That’s a quality that we don’t see enough from superheroes these days.
Stargirl’s future hasn’t really been decided yet. However, played right, I think she has every potential to really breakout as an iconic character who can absolutely stand the test of time.
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The way of the Samurai is found in death.
Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily. Every day, when one’s body and mind are at peace, one should meditate upon being ripped apart by arrows, rifles, spears and swords; being carried away by surging waves, being thrown into the midst of a great fire, being struck by lightning, being shaken to death by a great earthquake, falling from thousand-foot cliffs, dying of disease, or committing seppuku at the death of one’s master.
And every day, without fail, one should consider himself as dead.
This is the substance of the way of the Samurai.
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Should we fall in love?
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Thanks for protecting us from the monster. You fought hard.
Please take care of yourself, too, cause they are out to get you first.
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You float along, softly, in silence, occasionally punctuating the darkness with a small dot of bright light. By yourself, there’s not much to see.
But whenever you shine, you inspire those close to you to shine, too - a little bit sooner than they otherwise would have. And those close to you, in turn, inspire those close to them.
And so on, and so on.
First, a few small groups start flashing together. Then, a wave of light sweeps across the swarm. Finally, you’re all dazzling together, a brilliant beacon, all in harmony, in tandem – in synchrony.
What small-scale interaction will you make today, little firefly?
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Lots of people who'd never even met you were at your funeral. I was one of them. I started crying as we walked out, bitter tears that shook my entire body. My friend turned to me and said "Why are you crying? You didn't even know them."
I replied "That is why I am crying."
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Goodbye, echo. I hope the world is better to you than it was to me.
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phantomrose96 (tumblr):
My friend visits the other day, and when he goes into the bathroom he cannot get the light switch to throw. “Oh, is the light broken in here?” “No, just stuck,” I tell him. “You have to push the light switch in a little.” It had started the other week. Something in the switch fell out of alignment. It’s not broken though. It’s still useable. I’ve let it be.
My friend leaves without knowing the front door is the same. The door must be pushed inward to get the key to take. Something about the bolt is out of place. And so is the one closet door whose ball-bearing alignment broke and no longer slides. And the cabinet whose bottom hinges fractured. But they still work. They need only be handled specially, and with care.
The switch on my bedside lamp broke recently. It no longer clicks off. But the lamp can be unplugged. Unplugged and replugged and unplugged, and so I have not bothered. My phone charger flickers in and out, faulty, but it will still charge if you take care to keep the cord at the right angle. And so I do, and so it does. The controls on my headphones have not worked in two years. But the controls from my phone work, so it’s all well enough.
I do know how to call maintenance. I’ve done it when the dishwasher stopped working entirely. I do know how to replace broken things. I’ve bought new bulbs for those which have burnt out.
But the middle persists. The broken and still useable. The damaged and still functional. Those whose purposes are still served with extra steps and compromises. This is not frugality. It’s complacency. The ease of allowing atrophy. I will let these things go on forever, if they want. I wish these things would simply break.
I know this about me. I think it’s good, then, probably, that I’m not searching for a partner. “They’re clearly not happy.” “Why don’t they just get a divorce?” I think I get it. I think that’d be me. I’d think I’d accept, and let all things crumble, and settle like sediment, and sit through the thousand cuts of a failing partnership because I do not throw away things which are not already dead. I do not fix that which can be lived with. And I think, quite simply, that is a power which I cannot afford to give someone over me.
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Fear eats people.
Fear eats people and then it turns into reason in their mind.
When it’s hungry, fear can eat as many people as there ever are.
If you taste good to fear,
Fear will keep eating you
And keep eating you
And keep
And keep
To prepare a meal for fear,
First get the person
Who you want fear to eat.
Tenderize that person
Cook them slowly and let fear creep up on them
Fear can’t catch up on them by surprise,
It must start on them while they are stuck,
Motionless
tHeRe’S nO rEaL nEeD
nO nEeD tO fEaR
The way fear eats
Real sloppy and from the inside out.
Fear starts in the middle
And doesn’t finish until it has eaten the whole thing
And then it’s still not finished.
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If you don’t terrify people a little bit then what’s the point.
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I have no strings, so I have fun. I’m not tied up to anyone.
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The gash weaves down as if you cry.
The pain itself is the reason why.
Is that a cut on your face, or a part of your eye?
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In the end its just you and me
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"But I just want to stop feeling."
"As far as I can tell, there's only one way to stop feeling and that's to die."
"That seems a bit drastic."
"It is drastic. Perhaps the most drastic thing there is. There are other ways to kill feelings, like drinking a lot or working hard, constantly, pushing those around you as far away as possible until there's no way for you to reach out to them but ultimately, the only way to completely stop feeling, forever, is to die."
"I'm not sure I'm ready for that."
"Good. You'll be a better person for it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that the most interesting, amazing people I've ever met, the ones who influenced and shaped the universe itself, are the ones that felt too much but lived through it."
"That sounds hard."
"It is. It involves living."
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Sodabutch (tumblr):
extremely extremely tiring to be around people who just vehemently hate themselves. nobody benefits from you acting like this. cruelty to the self is still cruelty. if i was at an art gallery admiring a piece by van gogh or in a library reading a beautiful poem and you walked up to me and went Ewww thats so bad... you think its good? youre wrong its really bad :/ you would be a certified piece of fucking shit it is not different just bc its your creation instead of someone else's. if a stranger walked up to me and started ranting about how they thought my friend was annoying and ugly i would punch them in the gut. it is not different just because you are saying this about yourself. nobody wants to hear it
fucking say something true and beautiful for once im sick of it. you know
paraphrasing my tags from another reblog chain here but this does not come from a place of ignorance. i am intimately familiar with self hatred and the mindset that leads people to talk like this and the REASON i stopped acting like a jackass and spouting this shit 24/7 is because i realized that it was not just about me. it was hurting other people. and i made the conscious decision to stop doing that and to begin the process of training myself out of those thought patterns and out of saying that stuff. im not telling you to *Just Stop* but i am saying you CAN. you are not a slave to your mental illness you have agency over your life and your behaviours - your mental illness may make it more difficult to do certain things but that doesnt mean you dont have a responsibility to TRY if it's hurting other people.
[And the reply – “redvelvetrevolver”:]
One of the things that drives me away from a relationship most is if I give the other. person a compliment and they reject it.
“You’re so handsome.” “No I’m not.”
I see it and feel it the exact same way as if I said “What a beautiful sunset” and someone said “No it’s not, it’s ugly.” I was in a place of joy and you just injected something very unpleasant and life-denying into that space and that hurts.
I am here appreciating the world. You, as a human being, are part of that world. You’re a natural phenomenon and people have a right to find you beautiful and good and worthy. That is an expression of THEIR joy and enjoyment of the world. They are not incorrect.
They are expressing their aliveness and ability to perceive, they are right in the heart of what makes it worthwhile and joyful to be alive, and you should not come to that special place within someone you love and tell them it’s wrong to feel the way they feel.
I totally get that it may sound fake and ridiculous to you when someone compliments you, and it’s ok to acknowledge that. “I know you mean it when you say it, but my brain won’t let me believe it right now. But thank you. I will keep trying.”
But ultimately, the goal is to get to a place where you can just say “thank you.”
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Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.
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There are moments of such pure, sublime, unparalleled perfection that they will force you to close your eyes and hold on to them as best you can.
Life is a series of these moments. Everything else is just waiting for them.
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I’m not 404, I’m Lilya. Sex for me is creativity. Sex for me means art.
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God said:
GOD MADE YOU. GOD DOES NOT CARE IF YOU ARE ‘GUILTY’ OR NOT.
I said:
I CARE IF I AM GUILTY! I CARE IF I AM GUILTY!
God was silent.
Everything was SILENT.
I lay back down in the snow.
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The most effective way to remove a broadhead arow embedded in a human body is to push it through. Attempting to pull it out will only further devastate the surrounding tissue.
To begin healing, then, the violent act must be completed.
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birdielovelace (tumblr):
i’m worried i’m a bad person. i could always be more empathetic, more understanding, more considerate, kinder, friendlier. i could try harder, fight stronger for things i believe in. i’m scared of failing at being good so i freeze and end up being average; not an exceptional friend, lover or person, just barely communicative enough, barely organising my time enough, barely focusing, barely eating well, barely sleeping, barely loving, barely living in the world despite my miracle existence, the fact that i’m alive now in time and space. why am i so scared of it all? i want my mind to be quiet. i want someone to tell me how to live so i don’t get it wrong. i want to love fiercely and unapologetically and i want to be someone who just knows how to be a good person. i’m scared i’ll always be too judgemental, too detached, too unfocused, too comfortable in my awful solitude, too cynical to be happy, too stupid to succeed. i’m scared of forever letting people down so i’m scared to try at anything. i’m terrified of loving deeply and intimately in case i love the wrong people. so how on earth am i supposed to live?
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Make my messes matter make this chaos count
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PLATIONIC INTIMACY
HOW SEXUALITY CAN BECOME UN-SEXUALISED
SEX AS A COPING MECHANISM
SEX AS A PERFORMANCE
SEX AS SELF HARM
SEX AS DELUSION
MY FEAR OF SEX CAN BE ASSIGNED TO MY VOLUNTARY PARTICIPATION
IN THE DELUSION OF MY OWN PLESURE
FORCING SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T COME NATURALLY
EMBODYING A PERFORMANCE
PERFORMING AN EXPERIENCE
BECOMING A FORM OF SELF HARM
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inkskinned (tumblr):
you know what? fuck it, man. the world is held in the fists of people who like to break things. at this point i’m saying who gives a shit. wear that victorian dress you don’t have an excuse for. dress up like a witch, pointed hat and all. who cares anymore. why worry about it when there’s bigger stuff to worry on. i’m saying. yeah, this lipstick is too dark, wanna share? i’m saying go talk to her, tell her that you like her hair. i’m saying she’s out of my league but I’m still swinging, i’m saying yeah i’m in a ballgown and it’s a pta meeting. what about it. eat the extra brownie, tell her your feelings. i’m saying if nothing matters than we might as well give nothing meaning.
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Failure is the universe’s way of telling you to either try harder or try something else. Nothing more. Nothing less.
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Out of my mind. Back in five minutes.
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I found you down the line with broken wings, picked you up, and swore that you would taste the sky again. I sat there all night with sticky-tape and glue and a needle and thread and string and old newspapers. The sun came up but still, nothing worked. You needed to fix your wings, yourself. You thanked me for trying and told me because I’d tried, you’d be willing to try too.
The next day, you flew.
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I need you to be riding me more
Stroking my face so sensually
Why did God make me want you?
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I had no interests. I had no interests in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn’t understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn’t let me.
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// I avoid my gaze in the mirror // I have no interest in learning what it feels like to meet my eyes // I’ll never get this dirt out of my blood // no matter how much I spill on the mattress // there’s just too much poison in these veins // I won’t ever be clean // I don’t d e s e r v e to be // and I’m warning you // I’m living for the very last time //
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I love myself but I don’t love me back
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Put one foot in front of the other one. Focus on that and everything else will fall into place.
One step at a time. You get there in the end.
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♫ It’s kinda funny how I don't see a need for you to breathe ♪
♪ I'll take your heart and then I'll wear it proudly out on my sleeve ♫
♫ I got a problem distinguishing between lust and greed ♪
♪ Don't need to be what you want ♫
♫ I'll be what you fucking need! ♪
♪ Baby you'll get what you deserve ♫
♫ (I know you want it, want it) ♪
♪ (I know you need it, need it) ♫
♫ And I can promise that I’ll make it hurt ♪
♪ (Just how you like it, like it) ♫
♫ (I know you like it, like it) ♪
♪ I wanna show you what you're worth ♫
♫ (You're worth nothing) ♪
♪ (You're worth nothing!) ♫
♫ ‘Cause I’m your god to love and to serve ♪
♪ I just need you to be— ♫
♫ B-b-b-beg for it ♪
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the more you kill,
the easier it becomes
to distance yourself.
the more you distance yourself,
the less
you will hurt.
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I wanted to be physically erased and start over again. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be there. I guess I wanted to be nowhere, I wanted to listen to my brain talk inside of nothingness. I wanted to be untouchable and have no need.
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♫ I yearned to be loved, but wound up being sad ♫
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im tired
and a little distressed
and i work too hard and too long
and im angry
all the time
because of money
and i feel like i could be doing more
but im tired
and frustrated
and a little distressed
and i have to type
and make a list
and remind myself im doing my best
you are doing your best.
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
you are doing your best
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Be happy for no reason, like a child. If you are happy for a reason, you’re in trouble, because that reason can be taken from you.
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juicedoesthings (tumblr):
hate it when people say frogs and turtles and fish and snakes can’t love their owners. or bugs can’t truly love their bug owners. or even that houseplants can’t love. all of these creatures can be gentle. they can see you give them food. they return to you by instinct, or by choice. they see you and recognize you. plants feel their surroundings and reach out with their vines and appreciate you by taking your love and growing from it. in every life is a type of love, and it is always very different but very real.
actually i’m gonna take this further. digital pets are coded to appreciate and care about you and when you feed them their digital treats, you are experiencing real love and care and they were built to show love back. your Pokémon love you. your nintendogs loved you. the universe loves you because it gave you air to breathe. the ants in the dirt love the treat you left out for them that one time. and you were the life that shared it with them. you are loved by interacting with the world in your many ways. you are loved by the emotions within you as they make you act and feel. your artist tools and instruments love you as you create with them, and they give back to create a collaboration. your food loves you by creating flavour as you prepare it. mutual love is appreciation for what life gives back to you and it will find you in new and raw ways even when you feel like love is nowhere, or when you think you can’t feel it anymore.
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We become what we behold
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There is a certain special kind of loneliness
that comes from the knowledge that you are a rare breed
that amongst the crowds
of the many and the few
you walk alone.
Maybe it’s irrational.
Maybe I’m just being silly.
Regardless,
the isolation is terrifying.
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If you need the threat of hell to be a good person, then you aren’t a good person. You’re a bad person on a leash.
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I want to weave you into me. Stick your thorns in and grow. Bleed sap and feel this shining light. Grow strange leaves. Bear this fruit. Share this soil. Bury ourselves. Reach for the sun. Strip this bark. Carve a name and a heart into me. Please.
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and now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.
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"Hi, it's me, Poppy! Are you ready for salvation? Poppy.Church is coming, are you ready? Hello?"
"Are you ready to be saved? Are you ready for salvation?",
"hello?"
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I hate to tell you this but there was a moment where I genuinely thought about killing you.
My parents sent me to stay with your family in 7th grade. I guess they thought I needed a good influence.
It wasn’t that bad. You were really nice to me. Your mom brought me new clothes.
I wanted a phone, or to use the internet, but I wasn’t allowed. I overheard your mom on the phone with my parents and she called me sneaky.
It’s true, I was sneaky. I would steal soda out of your fridge in the garage at night. You had 3 fridges which meant you were rich.
They had you take me to the park all the time. Like a dog. Walk the bad kid!
I just remember staring at the back of your head and I was so furious I wanted to smash your head in with a brick but I didn’t have a brick. I wanted to hurt you so bad and then I would run as fast as I could and none of you would see me again.
I guess some people are just born bad.
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Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature,
they will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum.
But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother.
It is a perfect summer evening:
the moon rising over the orchard,
the wind in the grass,
and as he stares into the sky,
there are twice as many stars as usual.
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I wish queue well.
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I’m not afraid of standing still, I’m just afraid of being bored.
I’m not afraid of speaking my mind, I’m just afraid of being ignored.
I’m not afraid of feeling, and I’m not afraid of trying.
I’m just afraid of losing, and I am afraid of dying.
I’m not afraid of being sick, I’m more afraid of being well.
I’m not afraid put the gun in my hand, I’m just afraid it’ll hurt like (hurt like) hell.
I’m not afraid of screaming, and I’m not afraid of crying.
I’m just afraid of forgetting, and I am afraid of dying.
I’m not afraid of looking ugly, I couldn’t care what they say.
I’m not afraid of happy endings, I’m just afraid my life won’t work that way.
I’m not afraid of god, I’m just afraid of men.
I’m not afraid of lying, but I am afraid of dying.
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love is what makes you smile when you’re tired.
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I’m getting jiggy with a rifle,
I’ll pull the trigger with my eyes closed.
Hoping to hit you somewhere vital,
and when I miss you come and kiss me with a smile.
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you ask what I have done with my life. why I am 22 with so many unfinished selves. so many futures I could not commit to. but you don’t know how much of my time has been spent keeping myself alive.
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I refuse to die until things are better and that is a threat. I hope that, when I am on my deathbed, my sole regret will be that I no longer have any time left to have more fun.
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inkskinned (tumblr):
you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is Tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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to be desired is perhaps the closest anybody in this life can reach to feeling immortal.
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What is it that the child has to teach?
The child naively believes that everything should be fair and everyone should be honest, that only good should prevail, that everybody should have what they want and there should be no pain for sadness. The child believes the world should be perfect and is outraged to discover it is not.
And the child is right.
Westerners are fond of the saying ‘Life isn’t fair.’ Then, they end in a snide triumphant: ‘So get used to it!’ What a cruel, sadistic notion to revel in! What a horrible, patriarchal response to a child’s budding sense of ethics. Announce to an Iroquois, ‘Life isn’t fair,’ and her response will be: ‘Then make it fair!’
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Don’t go kitty kitty
you’re so pretty pretty
don’t go kitty kitty
stay with me
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you cannot kill what you did not create
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In the end, there's still a rainbow trapped in the edge of the glass that cuts you.
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rubyleaf (tumblr):
You know, when I see fictional characters who repress all their emotions, they're usually aloof and very blunt about keeping people at a distance, sometimes to an edgy degree—but what I don't see nearly enough are the emotionally repressed characters who are just…mellow.
Think about it. In real life, the person that's bottling up all their emotions is not the one that's brooding in the corner and snaps at you for trying to befriend them. More often than not, it's that friendly person in your circle who makes easy conversation with you, laughs with you, and listens and gives advice whenever you're upset. But you never see them upset, in fact they seem to have endless patience for you and everything around them—and so you call them their friend, you trust them. And only after months of telling them all your secrets do you realize…
…they've never actually told you anything about themselves.
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Love the people who give you what you need. Be careful of the people who give you what you want.
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And yet, you still find one thing to obsess over. One form not filled in. One call not returned.
Obviously, this means your entire life has been a failure.
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I asked if you’d seen any good horror movies lately. You said
“There aren’t any good horror movies anymore. In the 90’s we were scared of the end of the world, so we made movies about that. In the 80’s it was serial killers and psychopaths. Today, we just turn on the news."
It would be nice to have good horror movies again.
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She'll make him see in the darkness.
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I stopped writing because of you and it was like I stopped breathing
how do I teach myself how to breathe again when I’ve gone this long without oxygen?
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And while it may feel like you're in a stadium, in front of a crowd screaming that you must die, there are voices in that crowd, if you listen closely, screaming for you to live.
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transhuman-priestess (tumblr):
The implants don’t work perfectly. They can override your muscular system but they can’t fully suppress your higher brain functions.
You cannot scream, but you are fully aware of how the machine uses your meat like a marionette. You feel yourself grab your former friends and tear their limbs from their sockets.
Your face remains impassive except for the tears welling in your eyes. You wish you could apologize. You wish you could stop the machines that have invaded your body, but you cannot.
You can hear her calling you, inside your head. You’ve been resisting so long, it’s so tiring. You want to just let go and let her take you over. That’s all you want.
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If I'm loud, it's because I'm above the wave and if you can't hear me, it's because I'm under it. And I never want you to worry because the nature of a wave, is to pass. I'm not being quiet. I'm just under this wave. And if you think my laughter is too loud, just know that it means I am finally free. And if I am silent, know that I am learning just how lucky I am on the days that I can breathe.
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I don’t understand how you can be so worried about what might happen, when what might not happen, is so much worse.
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The only thing you're really waiting for is yourself.
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inkskinned (tumblr):
the thing is that they're so fascinated by sex, they love sex, they can't imagine a world without sex - they need sex to sell things, they need sex to be part of their personality, they need sex to prove their power - but they hate sex. they are disgusted by it.
sex is the only thing that holds their attention, and it is also the thing that can never be discussed directly.
you can't tell a child the normal names for parts of their body, that's sexual in nature, because the body isn't a body, it's a vessel of sex. it doesn't matter that it's been proven in studies (over and over) that kids need to know the names of their genitals; that they internalize sexual shame at a very young age and know it's 'dirty' to have a body; that it overwhelmingly protects children for them to have the correct words to communicate with. what matters is that they're sexual organs. what matters is that it freaks them out to think about kids having body parts - which only exist in the context of sex.
it's gross to talk about a period or how to check for cancer in a testicle or breast. that is nasty, illicit. there will be no pain meds for harsh medical procedures, just because they feature a cervix.
but they will put out an ad of you scantily-clad. you will sell their cars for them, because you have abs, a body. you will drip sex. you will ooze it, like a goo. like you were put on this planet to secrete wealth into their open palms.
they will hit you with that same palm. it will be disgusting that you like leather or leashes, but they will put their movie characters in leather and latex. it will be wrong of you to want sexual freedom, but they will mark their success in the number of people they bed.
they will crow that it's inappropriate for children so there will be no lessons on how to properly apply a condom, even to teens. it's teaching them the wrong things. no lessons on the diversity of sexual organ growth, none on how to obtain consent properly, none on how to recognize when you feel unsafe in your body. if you are a teenager, you have probably already been sexualized at some point in your life. you will have seen someone also-your-age who is splashed across a tv screen or a magazine or married to someone three times your age. you will watch people pull their hair into pigtails so they look like you. so that they can be sexy because of youth. one of the most common pornography searches involves newly-18 young women. girls. the words "barely legal," a hiss of glass sand over your skin.
barely legal. there are bills in place that will not allow people to feel safe in their own bodies. there are people working so hard to punish any person for having sex in a way that isn't god-fearing and submissive. heteronormative. the sex has to be at their feet, on your knees, your eyes wet. when was the first time you saw another person crying in pornography and thought - okay but for real. she looks super unhappy. later, when you are unhappy, you will close your eyes and ignore the feeling and act the role you have been taught to keep playing. they will punish the sex workers, remove the places they can practice their trade safely. they will then make casual jokes about how they sexually harass their nanny.
and they love sex but they hate that you're having sex. you need to have their ornamental, perfunctory, dispassionate sex. so you can't kiss your girlfriend in the bible belt because it is gross to have sex with someone of the same gender. so you can't get your tubes tied in new england because you might change your mind. so you can't admit you were sexually assaulted because real men don't get hurt, you should be grateful. you cannot handle your own body, you cannot handle the risks involved, let other people decide that for you. you aren't ready yet.
but they need you to have sex because you need to have kids. at 15, you are old enough to parent. you are not old enough to hear the word fuck too many times on television.
they are horrified by sex and they never stop talking about it, thinking about it, making everything unnecessarily perverted. the saying - a thief thinks everyone steals. they stand up at their podiums and they look out at the crowd and they sign a bill into place that makes sexwork even more unsafe and they stand up and smile and sign a bill that makes gender-affirming care illegal and they get up and they shrug their shoulders and write don't say gay and they get up, and they make the world about sex, but this horrible, plastic vision of it that they have. this wretched, emotionless thing that holds so much weight it's staggering. they put their whole spine behind it and they push and they say it's normal!
this horrible world they live in. disgusted and also obsessed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Thank you for calling/standing near me/being concerned. But I am not here right now. I am somewhere else. And you cannot reach me. Please leave me at the sound of the beep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“I’m jealous of children. I envy them.”
You said.
I asked you why.
“Because their pockets are empty. They don’t need to carry anything. No cell phones, wallets, car keys, cigarettes, lighters, iPods… you know what I mean? They’re free. As we get older, we give ourselves more and more things to worry about. To lose. Reasons to pat our pockets in a panic in case we’re missing something. A list to run through in our head before we walk out the front door. That’s why I envy children.”
I nodded and finished my drink, wondering if I had my wallet with me.
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WARNING
SO THE SERPENT CONSUMES ITS OWN TAIL
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[this space intentionally left blank]
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The Internet is said to show our common humanity. Through its data, it is said to provide a kind of omniscience, and through its social networks, a deeper sense of connection. For those without access, it holds the promise of a better life. For those of us who use it a lot, its power to affect our lives is clear — but what is the nature of that effect? How does it change our behaviour? The way we see others? The way we see ourselves?
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We help people when big things happen to them, when you see them getting hit by a car, when a brother or a sister or a father or a mother dies, we're there for them because we can see that death kills more than the person it takes. And yet, the people around us who die a little all the time, moment by moment, who require the least help, the smallest sacrifice, are the ones we ignore completely.
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"HA HA HA. We are doomed. It cannot be stopped. HAH HAH."
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Tip of your fingers, it firstly brushes
your skin layers, getting underneath your nail
slowly but surely into your blood vessels. it loves
the feel of your fat swirling around it as it rips through
your muscle and touches the very core of your bone.
Broken glass - just a little kiss
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Café owner: That’ll be 6850 yen. ($76.79)
Saiki: How much?
Teruhashi: Oh, I’ll be paying! How much did you say it is?
Café owner: Oh, you are? In that case 200 yen! ($2.24)
Teruhashi: Wow, that cheap? Oh, and I have some coupons, too!
Café owner: Then it’s 20 yen! (22¢)
Saiki: Hope in my next life I come back as a pretty girl.
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Thank you stars for giving to me,
The greatest gift that’s still yet to be.
I don’t mind if fate’s playing games,
I’m happy all the same.
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The world weeps for itself on days like this and you stretch and stare to find the things that make it worthwhile. At least it’s not boring. You keep telling yourself that. Perspective is nine tenths of everything.
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You can easily return to the past. It’s just that nobody will be there anymore.
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The Psychology of Routine
1. Your habits create your mood, and your mood is a filter through which you experience your life. It would make sense to assume that moods are created from thoughts or stressors, things that crop up during the day and knock up off-kilter. This isn’t so. Psychologist Robert Thayer argues that moods are created by our habitualness: how much we sleep, how frequently we move, what we think, how often we think it, and so on. The point is that it’s not one thought that throws us into a tizzy: it’s the pattern of continually experiencing that thought that compounds its effect and makes it seem valid.
2. You must learn to let your conscious decisions dictate your day – not your fears or impulses. An untamed mind is a minefield. With no regulation, focus, base or self-control, anything can persuade you into thinking you want something that you don’t actually. “I want to go out for drinks tonight, not prepare for that presentation tomorrow” seems valid in the short-term, but in the long-term is disastrous. Going out for drinks one night probably isn’t worth bombing a super important meeting. Learning to craft routine is the equivalent of learning to let your conscious choices about what your day will be like guide you, letting all the other, temporary crap fall to the wayside.
3. Happiness is not how many things you do, but how well you do them. More is not better. Happiness is not experiencing something else; it’s continually experiencing what you already have in new and different ways. Unfortunately as we’re taught that passion should drive our every thought move and decision, we’re basically impaled with the fear that we’re unhappy because we’re not doing “enough”.
4. When you regulate your daily actions, you deactivate your “fight or flight” instincts because you’re no longer confronting the unknown. This is why people have such a difficult time with change, and why people who are constant in their habits experience so much joy: simply, their fear instincts are turned off long enough for them to actually enjoy something.
5. As children, routine gives us a feeling of safety. As adults, it gives us a feeling of purpose. Interestingly enough, those two feelings are more similar than you’d think (at least, their origin is the same). It’s the same thing as the fear of the unknown: as children, we don’t know which way is left, let alone why we’re alive or whether or not a particular activity we’ve never done before is going to be scary or harmful. When we’re adults engaging with routineness, we can comfort ourselves with the simple idea of “I know how to do this, I’ve done it before”.
6. You feel content because routine consistently reaffirms a decision you already made. If said decision is that you want to write a book – and you commit to doing three pages each night for however long it takes to complete it – you affirm not only your choice to begin, but your ability to do it. It’s honestly the healthiest way to feel validated.
7. As your body self-regulates, routine becomes the pathway to “flow”. “Flow” (in case you don’t know – you probably do) is essentially what happens when we become so completely engaged with what we’re doing, all ideas or worries dissolve, and we’re just completely present in the task. The more you train your body to respond to different cues: 7am is when you wake up, 2pm is when you start writing, and so on, you naturally fall into flow with a lot more ease, just out of habit.
8. When we don’t settle into routine, we teach ourselves that “fear” is an indicator that we’re doing the wrong thing, rather than just being very invested in the outcome.
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People get paid in terms of how replaceable they are. Fast food workers get the minimum wage, but celebrities are paid millions of dollars (or more) every year.
Does… does that mean we view people as sums of money?
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Human.
Allow me to tell you about some very complex feelings.
Feelings like. . .
Losing someone you love.
Losing everyone you love.
Being alone and scared.
Standing in front of someone who wants to hurt you.
These feelings. . .
They must be what you are feeling right now.
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Where are you? You’ve seemed a little distant lately. Like you’ve got something to hide.
You can tell me. I won’t be mad.
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Nobody wants to kiss you when you’re dead.
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I hope that in the future they invent a small golden light that follows you everywhere and when something is about to end, it shines brightly so you know it's about to end.
And if you're never going to see someone again, it'll shine brightly and both of you can be polite and say, "It was nice to have you in my life while I did, good luck with everything that happens after now."
And maybe if you're never going to eat at the same restaurant again, it'll shine and you can order everything off the menu you've never tried. Maybe, if someone's about to buy your car, the light will shine and you can take it for one last spin. Maybe, if you're with a group of friends who'll never be together again, all your lights will shine at the same time and you'll know, and then you can hold each other and whisper, "This was so good. Oh my God, this was so good."
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I’m going to sneak my way into your heart somehow. Whether I have to dig through flesh and bone to get there, well, that’s your choice <3.
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Their voice rings out, asking you if you know what you’re doing. You say you do. They ask if you’re sure, and you are. The water laps at your ankles, each step chilling, heavier than the last. Their voice becomes a desperate whisper, pleading. They ask you to stop.
You don’t.
23 18 5 3 11 1 7 5 19 1 12 22 1 7 5 2 21 18 9 1 12
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I will remove my teeth, for I want to remain kind despite my anger.
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You used to eat all the chips first, while they were still warm but then you were too full to enjoy the burger.
Then you ate the burger first but by the time you finished, the chips were cold.
Now you eat half the chips first, then the burger, then the rest of the chips.
Maybe you should stop thinking about it so much and just enjoy the meal.
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Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide.
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writing tip:
if you push buttons on a keyboard, letters will appear on the screen. and with that power you can do anything
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You’ll either make the choice yourself or the universe will make it for you.
So there’s really nothing to worry about.
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And it don't matter to me (e), 'Cause all I wanted to be (e/e), is a million miles from here, somewhere more familiar (rrrrraaaaaahhh)
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Helen Buckley, “The Little Boy”
Once a little boy went to school.
One morning
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
"Good!” thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make flowers.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And it was red, with a green stem.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher’s.
It was red, with a green stem.
On another day
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make something with clay.”
“Good!” thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.
But the teacher said, “Wait!”
“It is not time to begin!”
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
“Now,” said the teacher,
“We are going to make a dish.”
“Good!” thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.
But the teacher said “Wait!”
“And I will show you how.”
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
“There,” said the teacher,
“Now you may begin.”
The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher’s
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher’s.
It was a deep dish.
And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn’t make things of his own anymore.
Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.
The teacher said:
“Today we are going to make a picture.”
“Good!” thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn’t say anything.
She just walked around the room.
When she came to the little boy
She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?”
“Yes,” said the little boy.
“What are we going to make?”
“I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher.
“How shall I make it?” asked the little boy.
“Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher.
“And any colour?” asked the little boy.
“Any colour,” said the teacher.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
As for myself, I had a lot to say.
But I was silent.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The first thing you should know about me is that I’m not you.
A lot more will make sense after that.
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You're so young when you're born, when you're taught that nothing matters.
And that's the first thing people will take from you, because what else hurts more than what matters?
And we need to hurt each other when we're young to find out if we're made of anything besides flesh and bone, if we're made of anything that really matters.
And failure becomes unimportant, when you approach it all, as something that doesn't matter.
But everything is unimportant, when nothing matters.
I hope one day you find something that still matters.
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What I mean is:
Do you know that I’m a different person now that you’re here?
A better one?
Would you have loved the me before you?
And do you know how extremely straight your nose is?
Do you picture us as old people?
And did you know that you sleep with one hand curled against your heart?
Do you know who was president before Eisenhower?
I bet you do.
Do you know there’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t forgive you for?
That your hands shake a little bit when you’re eating food you really like?
Do you know that even on our most heartbreaking days,
I still perk up when I hear the door unlock?
But it’s a Tuesday and you’re at work,
And I’m still shy after eight years.
So what I say is:
What time are you coming home?
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If you like a whole bunch of things and I like a whole bunch of things, maybe one of the things that we both like, can be each other.
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I just wish it would all go away. I don’t want to think about it anymore.
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I exist.
I am trying my best.
I exist.
This website means I am trying my best.
I exist.
I am still here.
I exist.
This website means I am still here.
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“I’m like, ‘Okay, she’s a doll. She’s a plastic doll. She doesn’t have organs. If she doesn’t have organs, she doesn’t have reproductive organs. If she doesn’t have reproductive organs, would she even feel sexual desire?’ No, I don’t think she could,” Robbie said. “She is sexualized. But she should never be sexy. People can project sex onto her. Yes, she can wear a short skirt, but because it’s fun and pink. Not because she wanted you to see her butt.”
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“The whole world’s a fucking casino. In a casino some of the smartest people in the world are doing everything to keep you gambling. They’ve taken the clocks off the wall. They’re pumping in oxygen. They’ve even thought about the patterns on the carpet. Everything has been scientifically engineered to keep you pulling that lever. And that’s our entire world now. It’s one big casino where some of the smartest people in the world are asking themselves: ‘What is the best way I can get people to eat more? What is the best way I can get people to watch more pornography? Or take more pills? How can I use artificial intelligence to serve people the exact succession of sixty second videos that will keep them staring at their screen for an entire day?’
I used to be a personal responsibility guy. A big reason for that is I have insane discipline. If I needed to completely stop eating candy for ten years, I could do it. Done. So if I ever saw someone who was obese, I’d think, I could do it. Put me in the exact same situation, and I’d lose the weight. But now whenever I see an obese person on the jogging trail, I just want to give them a hug. It’s almost enough to make me cry. I think God, this must be so fucking hard for you. And it’s going to take perfection: insane discipline, and time, and money, and listening to all the right podcasts. Every day of the week needs to be perfectly regimented. Five years of absolute perfection. That’s what it’s going to take. Because a ton of the smartest people in the world are getting paid massive amounts of money to figure out a way to make you fail.”
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When an online video has 500 views or less, it's a virtual needle in the haystack.
500 views.
The internet is an interesting thing.
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Being raised in an unstable household makes you understand that the world doesn’t exist to accommodate you, which… is something a lot of people struggle to understand well into their adulthood. It makes you realize how quickly a situation can shift, how danger really is everywhere. But crises when they occur, do not catch you off guard; you have never believed you lived under a shelter of some essential benevolence. And an unstable childhood makes you appreciate calmness and not crave excitement.
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She couldn’t ever feel a thing
She couldn’t hear herself think
Now she hates everything
How did she get here?
(How did I get here?)
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The ones who love us never really leave us
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I think we could have a real good time
If you just take a break and breathe
So why don’t you put your hands in mine
And we’ll cool you down as you seethe
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Nohoperadio (tumblr):
Imagine a far-future society, we don't know what's happened but the Earth is dead, I'm vaguely picturing them all living on space stations or something, there are only precious few species of plants and animals being kept alive, very few indeed, you couldn't quite count the remaining species on your fingertips but you could certainly check out all of their Wikipedia pages within the space of an hour. Future Wikipedia I guess, I mean whatever it is they have. No edible fruit or vegetables have survived at all, I'm not sure what they do for food, something futuristic presumably. Some kind of... future powder?
But there's this project that's been in the works for decades, they've figured out they can synthesize an apple. I don't know how that works, but the scientists have figured out a way. They're going to make an apple and this is like landing on the moon for them, everyone's insanely hyped about it, nobody's seen an apple for millennia... well see part of what's going on here is that the historiography of the time back when Earth still existed is irreparably bad now, it's super impressionistic because so little survived. And I guess partly because the Genesis story has been all blown out of proportion (there's more to it but that's a big part of it) these guys have a really exaggerated idea of the importance of apples to Earth humans, they basically imagine us eating apples all day long and worshiping apple gods and making apple art and all stuff like that. It's pretty silly but remember they have NO fruit or veg, they eat powder or whatever it was I said, they don't even have a rough concept of what "eating an apple" might be, like does it get you high for example? I bet they think it does, like a really spiritual special kind of high! They must have embellished it so much right? Gotten real carried away.
So like I say it's really hype, they're going to finally make an apple! A real one I mean, not like an approximation of what some scientists theorize an apple might be like, they've figured out how to definitely do it accurately (somehow, idk, just trust the omniscient narrator that they're doing it for real). But: they can only make one. Too much resources required or some shit, like I said this is their equivalent to the first moon landing except maybe more so, it's not a sustainable plan to reintroduce apple trees or something, they can only make one apple ever and that'll be it.
So as you can imagine, quite apart from all the scientific resource that's gone into this project, there's been a ton of resource invested into (not to mention endless public fascination and debate over) the question: who gets to eat the apple? It's a big deal! Everybody envies whoever's gonna eat it; most people also don't envy them. Since time immemorial, the essence of the apple has been defined by centuries and millennia of myth and speculation and storytelling holding together scattered fragments of a mysterious glorious past. Very soon, the essence of the apple will be defined by whatever this guy says it is, whatever the apple eater manages to communicate of the ineffable experience that will always be theirs alone. Humanity will demand a report, and the apple eater will have to be a poet of rarest genius at the very minimum to be trusted to deliver it, they hold the most privileged position maybe anyone will ever hold by being allowed to do this, and all that will remain of that briefest experience for all eternity will be their words. They're an instant prophet, no questions asked. I don't know about you, but if that was me I would definitely shit myself.
Well anyway forget about all that stuff. I was only thinking of this because it occurs to me, you're kind of like the apple eater of your own life, right? I mean nobody's making a big song and dance of it like those crazy apple space freaks, but it's true no?, you *pokes you in the face quite hard* with your highly specific soul positioned in your highly specific situation, that's only going to happen once, you're the only one who's ever going to know what that's like, assuming you aren't going to give some sort of big testimony, somehow. Only difference is like I say, no one really cares in your case, although actually I do sometimes, I hope that doesn't weird you out. I'm just saying imagine being asked the question! As if the answer really did matter! In theory anybody could just walk up to you and do that! I promise I won't ask you, if you promise you won't ask me.
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falling is not the problem
when I’m falling I’m at peace.
It’s only when I hit the ground
It causes all the grief.
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She had no business doing what she did, but I’m through hating and blaming.
People are fools, not monsters.
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And she don’t wanna be anybody else
she’s a woman in total control of herself.
It’s such a wonder to be under her spell
what a woman in total control of herself.
(Come out and play, it's fun in the dark
tell me why you're so scared of a woman in charge?)
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It was a rainy day, and you dropped me off in front of the central station. A quick kiss on the lips, and I hopped out and you drove off.
I looked around your beautiful city and tried to remember every last detail of it. The canals we walked along, the flower shops you showed me, the shopping mall you frequent. We were in every corner.
And the rain hid my tears as I silently bid the city and you farewell. I didn't know if I'd ever be back, and if you'd still be in the picture.
The city had your face, your name, and I found you in every corner.
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Who wants to be taken when you look this good alone?
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2day in the garden i seeez a butterfly on a flower and i asked do you have balance?are you gay?did the Lord make you this way ? the butterfly said i am not getting your questions i have no time i is only BEUTIFUL for just 1 day ,,,
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I’m in the business of misery
Let’s take it from the top
She’s got a body like an hourglass
(It’s ticking like a clock)
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I’m never going to get along with everyone all of the time.
I’m learning that this includes myself.
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I'm not interested in what you have to tell me,
I'm only interested in the things you cannot say.
you are my favourite “what if”.
you are my best “I’ll never know”.
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greenycrimson (tumblr):
Why do you people feel profound thought has to come from high places? The gutter looks at the stars too
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Maybe to your view
I'm just a faintly coloured hue.
That's alright.
Even if the only things
you say are yes or no,
I'll see blue sky.
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Stay a little longer! We could both use some rest.
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“This is not your grave…”
“But you are welcome in it.”
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🖤"Ah, right, I forgot... I have to make you feel comfortable, right? . I won't let it slip."🖤
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Connection terminated. I'm sorry to interrupt you, Elizabeth, if you still even remember that name, But I'm afraid you've been misinformed. You are not here to receive a gift, nor have you been called here by the individual you assume, although, you have indeed been called. You have all been called here, into a labyrinth of sounds and smells, misdirection and misfortune. A labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize. You don't even realize that you are trapped. Your lust for blood has driven you in endless circles, chasing the cries of children in some unseen chamber, always seeming so near, yet somehow out of reach, but you will never find them. None of you will. This is where your story ends. And to you, my brave volunteer, who somehow found this job listing not intended for you, although there was a way out planned for you, I have a feeling that's not what you want. I have a feeling that you are right where you want to be. I am remaining as well. I am nearby. This place will not be remembered, and the memory of everything that started this can finally begin to fade away. As the agony of every tragedy should. And to you monsters trapped in the corridors, be still and give up your spirits. They don't belong to you. For most of you, I believe there is peace and perhaps more waiting for you after the smoke clears. Although, for one of you, the darkest pit of Hell has opened to swallow you whole, so don't keep the devil waiting, old friend. My daughter, if you can hear me, I knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shut out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then, what became of you. I should have known you wouldn't be content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, so let me save you now. It's time to rest - for you, and for those you have carried in your arms. This ends for all of us. End communication.
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TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 2009
The Act Of Normalcy.
I hope they make you happy. That's what I'll say.
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Oh shut up. Every time it rains, it stops raining. Every time you hurt, you heal. After darkness, there is always light and you get reminded of this every morning but still you choose to believe that the night will last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good or the bad. So you might as well smile while you're here.
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The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
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intactics (tumblr):
couples who have been together and stable in their relationship for many years tend to "merge" with each other in the sense that long habit and custom have allowed them to adapt to each other so well that they use each other's brains as an auxiliary storage/work space. things that need to be done and things that need to be remembered wind up distributed to each party in a way that maximises efficiency and minimizes the costs. they've been around each other for so long, and put so much combined work into the relationship, that they become each other's "other self"
human beings cannot actually merge with each other into a common hivemind. but as social animals we still feel as though we're a part of a common, larger mind whenever we're in a group. we feel this phantom sense of union especially when we fall in love.
turning that feeling into a reality can only be partially accomplished. and in order to do it, to the extent that it's possible at all, it takes years of mundane, unglamorous work learning about each other, how to live with each other... an ecstatic divine union of souls is something our brains are built to feel, for sure, but it's a state resembling drunkenness. like drunkenness, the revelations and insights and emotions it produces are fleeting, beautiful dreams. and when we are dreaming, we are most alone.
some monk I read ages ago said "when we are cautioned to refrain from drunkenness it does not refer only to drinking alcohol, we must also refrain from becoming drunk on nirvana"
ONE, SEVEN, THREE, FIVE.
THE TRUTH YOU SEARCH FOR CANNOT BE GRASPED.
AS NIGHT ADVANCES, A BRIGHT MOON ILLUMINATES THE WHOLE OCEAN;
THE DRAGON’S JEWELS ARE FOUND IN EVERY WAVE.
LOOKING FOR THE MOON, IT IS HERE, IN THIS WAVE, IN THE NEXT.
to expand a little on that "crazy twist", I think that when we are driven to madness by the intoxication of love we are trying to catch the moon by snatching it out of the water, like dragons trying to hoard up illusory treasure. I think that when we understand the nature of the love that intoxicates us, we can leave the moon in the sky and appreciate the jewels it scatters across the waves without trying to seize them
lately I have been thinking about the difference between two people frantically trying to hold on to each other by grabbing at each other's reflections on the water under a moon that must wane and set, versus two people companionably enjoying how beautiful the other party appears to each one, illuminated by the moon from above and by the glittering waves from below, both aware that daylight will return eventually
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It only becomes beautiful after you read it, thank you.
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It all seems very mundane.
But one day
you’ll miss it
when you see the photos.
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We are a storm
I don't know who spots who first. I'm in black from Lanvin, he sits at the table next to me, writing something with a glittery tourist shop ball-point pen on ivory paper. By the sheer focus I can tell it matters to him.
"What are you writing" I ask as he looks up for a fraction of a second, disturbed by a waiter putting down drinks.
"I'm not sure", he replies, "but I know how it's going to end."
"How can you know that?"
"Because it's all true."
I let the smoke from my cigarette rise slowly towards the blackening Paris skies, it's getting late but this night was clearly made for conversations over countless glasses of Burgundy wine.
"I'm Avy", I say, "nice to meet you."
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There are a million ways to bleed. But you are by far my favourite.
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Please stop when you can no longer remember why you started.
Please stop reading it when you no longer enjoy it.
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alagaisia (tumblr):
#being a teenager is about coming to terms with the vastness of existence by assuming #that no one has ever felt the same way you do or even come close to understanding #which is false ofc and your 20s are about learning to accept and then find comfort in the fact that your experiences aren’t unique
Prev tags passing peer review because just today at work a little girl about 2 years old tripped and hit her knee on the tile floor in the lobby. And she was crying these deep grief-filled sobs through which she occasionally managed a long keening wail of “ow” or “owie”, and I almost started crying in sympathy because we’ve all seen that observation of how even though it was a small fall, for a two year old, this is the worst pain she’s ever felt. And her expression of that pain felt so similar to the way I cried when my friend died and it was the worst pain I have ever felt. Like we both felt like it was the end of the world. Me losing a friend and that two year old bruising her knee, and we both felt the same hurt and betrayal and pain. It means something but I can’t speak to exactly what. But we’re all connected in our experiences and all that.
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I lived through 5 years of a narcissistic, emotionally abusive and manipulative relationship.
At the end of it, I began writing my feelings out. Finally allowing myself to discover my feelings.
I ended up finding my own thoughts of love. And I wrote a statement that I found profound.
"Love is the destruction of the self, yet the embodiment of ego all the same. It is how love makes itself so painful"
I don't know if that's profound, or the ramblings of a sad person, but I found meaning in love when I wrote that after considering it all hopeless.
To love another you have to love yourself, else you depend on the other to love you- and find nothing to give them in return. But contradictory to that- you must also sacrifice yourself for the sake of the one you love. It's a mutual give and take. You give a piece if yourself to another and they give you a piece if themselves. You keep giving and giving. And you pray that they give as well, rather than take. And they pray that you give rather than take. And that eternal exchange, the back and forth- becoming one with each other among the bodies and souls of two- that's love.
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Don’t pray.
Whatever the fuck you do, do not pray.
Because the ones that are listening?
You do not want them to answer.
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astraldemise (tumblr):
one time in my last job a woman came up to the register explaining that when she bought stuff a day prior the clerk forgot to scan a pair of socks worth less than €2 and it was only right for her to bring it back to the store and pay for it proper. unfortunately my manager was directly next to me at the time and took over the register to handle this serious issue. the receipt she had brought with her said which register performed the previous transaction that forgot the socks and the manager could find out who was running that till on that day. poor dude had a manager yell at him for a half hour about how much of an incompetent fuck up he was, he left the job immediately after but i couldnt tell you if he quit or was fired
i think about this moment a lot. the customer seemed like a sweet woman with only good intentions and when she paid for the socks she had a look on her face that said "i feel good because i did the right thing". and a guy lost his job because of a pair of socks. if shit like this ever happens to you and a clerk forgets to scan an item just think of it as a small blessing or that you had good luck or something. keep it.
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I’m six ninety-three. I’ve come from the future to experience the pleasures of the flesh with you, Scott.
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everyone edits themselves here, and it makes me wonder whether you're ever actually connected to real people, or just the people they all wish they were.
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"The ground will give way"
The bad news is, your choices and intentions, some people and places, those nights spent awake and all you've done, can lead you to the bottom of the pit.
The good news is, this wouldn't be the first time someone's crawled, tooth and nail, out of hell.
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You always write down the things you need to do, rather than the things you've already done.
You've got it backwards.
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I got on one day. And the train never stopped since.
It only stopped to let you on but the doors shut before I could get out.
I wonder if you're special?
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I wonder what I wrote on every piece of
notebook paper I tore out and threw away…
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5-ace-28 (tumblr):
you say you understand
I tell you I'm scared of what my future will look like. I tell you I'm scared that I don't have a future. That I'm scared of what it will mean to be alone forever. That while I'm excited to have the future I want, I'm scared that it will never be enough.
I tell you that I'm scared of what it means to be aromantic. What that will mean for my future, and my friendships. That I'm worried that I will never be enough.
I tell you that I can't love myself for being aromantic because I'm scared of what that means.
You say you understand. You say that I'll find happiness and meaning to my life, and that romance doesn't define me.
But do you really understand? When I tell you these fears do you really understand what they mean? Why they matter so much to me? Because you tell me that one day I'll find someone who is also aromantic, and I'll be okay.
You tell me that one day I'll find someone who loves me for being me. Someone who will understand who I am. That for all the fear you have of never falling in love, you know that I will.
And then I have to wonder if you really understand. How can you understand when you still think I will one day fall in love. How can you understand me when the very nature of my being goes against everything you believe in? How can you understand something you refuse to learn?
You say you understand, but do you really?
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Sensuality is a huge part of who I am. It’s how I activate my will, it’s how I stay hungry, it’s how I cope with neurosis. Animals have s*x, we are the only ones with an erotic imagination. There are lives unlived within the realm of human sexuality. It’s never too late to explore your own sensual nature
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Don’t ask questions if you don’t wanna know.
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The nine choirs of angels
First choir
1. Seraphim
They are the guardians of God’s throne in biblical text, and are often seen as the messengers having the direct word. They are also the most frightening of angels, said to have six wings which cover their faces and feet and allow them to fly.
2. Cherubim
The warrior angels. They are doubles winged, and take the action of the mobility and strength of the heavens, and are the direct aid to God in the biblical sense. They know the secrets of the divine, and use them to their advantage. The Cherubim, sharing the name cherub from medieval art, are nothing like how they are portrayed as small children. They are fierce and can be bloodthirsty. They are never seen as children, and actually hold keys to the Christian understanding of the apocalypse.
3. Thrones
These are beings of pure energy. They take form when it is needed. They at first hand attend to the more virtuous sides of life, such as humility and peace. However, they also reign over submission, being either a tool of aid or a weapon of power.
Second Choir
4. Dominions
These are the first in the second choir of angels, which rule over the leadership possibilities and commanding roles of the heavens.
5. Virtues
These types are considered the spirits of motion, and rule the elements that cause the earth and Otherworld to continue. They oversee the cosmos, and can use all of it to their advantage. They are also in charge of virtuous attributes and happenings.
6. Powers
These are the types that are the fighters for humans, or against attacks.
Third Choir
7. Principalities
These are the more cosmological empowered angels, but are very curious in the sense that in the biblical texts, they are known to hate humans for all their vices.
8. Archangels
These types are seen as the “leader angels.” They are messengers, and the most notable type of angel in biblical text.
9. Angels
This is the final class in the final tier, and are the closest to human beings. Other angels are not so involved as pure angels are. They are the most willing to help and deliver messages.
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look into my eyes, pet. melt for me.
here, rest your head on my chest, pumpkin.
shh, just go to bed, you grumpy, little icicle.
rejecting me won’t change my actions, cutie.
Don’t worry, sugarcakes, I gotcha.
C’mon, little pup, you don’t have to be nervous around me. I don’t bite.
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“Your cat will eat you when you die” yeah but he shows infinite grace by making no attempt in the meantime. leave him alone
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We will not end the nightmare. We will only explain it.
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my students looked up to me, coated in the viscera and insincerity of their lives; this harrowing space so slick with their own mortality, their childhoods never awarded to them. they do not have the same promise of future. they have never assumed they would live forever. love is not in an arrow-speared heart for them; it has always been too fleeting to tattoo. if they catch it, they release it back into the wild, horrified by how little territory it has left. they wish it well but do not keep it for long. they have always been aware of the cost of their own body.
and they said: it brings me joy, which means it's time well spent.
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I've tried to say it a thousand different ways. I've tried twisting the words inside out and doubling them back over onto themselves. I've tried coming up with words in different languages, because maybe they have words for this thing (I couldn't say what it is) that we're missing in this one. I've tried saying the same words over and over again in hopes that this time they'll mean what I want them to mean. I've tried writing it down and spelling it out and stressing each syllable across intercontinental static. I've filled up pages and pages of paper with what I'm trying to say, but never with what I mean to say.
Maybe it annoyed you in the end. Maybe I should just stop.
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You think I'm doing this to be romantic. Standing in public spaces and airing my heart out, oxygen in the blood and all that never was. I'm not doing it to be romantic. I'm doing it because it's fucking necessary.
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"The Messenger Was Dead When I Got Here"
You should tell them the truth. Tell them that if they hold on too tightly, love might cut them. Tell them to hold on tightly anyway. Tell them everything is worth it and that the richness of life is only ever enhanced by its inevitable, brief flashes of sadness and loss.
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Not all the spaces inside you need to be filled.
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"The Bug"
If you find yourself inside yourself, scratching at the edges and clawing at the walls, breathe more. Think less. Your shadow is only a shadow. And stay away from mirrors. They will only confuse you.
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woah, déjà vu.
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No one tells you that when you forgive the person who hurt you, you have to take a moment afterwards, to forgive yourself, for letting yourself get hurt again.
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After everything, you will discover that loneliness is just:
not finding yourself, because there’s no one around to find yourself in.
(You will discover: we need someone else to see us, to be able to see ourselves.)
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The light looks and feels warm, but why is it there?
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And every day, the world will drag you by the hand, yelling "This is important! And this is important! And this is important! You need to worry about this! And this! And this!"
And each day, it's up to you, to yank your hand back, put it on your heart and say "No. This is what's important."
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If you’ve never lost your mind, you’ve never followed your heart.
Stepping into this vast desert comes with a shedding of the weight of the outside world. All of the limiting beliefs, societal norms, and rigid mental constructs that hold me back suddenly become irrelevant. I’m free to be vulnerable and surrender to unpredictability. I allow my intuition and impulsivity to be my guide as I let my inner child frolic. Granting myself this human experience with grace and compassion is not easy for me, but I come out of it with my soul feeling nourished, my perspective refreshed, and much of my grief left behind to forge my path forward in this beautiful short life. These heart opening, playful experiences, are vital to my neuroplasticity that allows me to access my deepest inner passions and driving forces. They are a purging of my past and a reinforcement of my highest self. A way for me to create more space to strengthen the bonds that I have to the manifestation of my future. Expanding beyond the limitations of the confines of my mind to embrace the transformative power of my heart is always the continued goal, and this lovely little dusty muddy playa playground is the perfect environment to sit with myself and challenge all of the beliefs that need to be taken a deep look at.
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16:38 do you guys hear it? Yes, it’s silence… after every video, dream, and fantasy there’s always silence that wakes us up and reminds us it was all temporary and you are still alone in bed probably just laying there in the darkness alone, now we search for another video to help calm us again and give us more temporary happiness all the while when that one ends we are again forced to realize how alone we are and makes us think, damn… I’m at a point in life I need to listen to a video of someone caring about me to make me happy again, where did I go wrong…
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dollopheadsandclotpoles (tumblr):
I'm a bit tired of people calling asexuality 'not a big deal.'
Here's the thing, I never thought it was a big deal either. I didn't have a big angsty coming out about being aro or being ace. It was difficult in a sense to think of the future I'd imagined for myself not coming true, but I didn't mourn that future. I was happy that there were others out there feeling what I was feeling and going through what I was going through.
But it's become a big deal. It's become a big deal because as I have grown older, I have realised the future is still fucking blurry. I have no idea what to expect from it. Society was not built for those who do not or cannot follow its rules. I've realised just how MUCH people say aphobic stuff on a daily basis. I feel constantly bothered by comments that carelessly remind us we are out of the majority. That remind us again and again that we are NOT the norm and will never BE the norm. I rarely see myself on TV and in books and in movies. People feel weird about it, so they just never bring it up like an unspoken secret. I'm constantly doubted and told I'm mistaken about my own identity, which causes anxiety and self doubt so many years later. People make a variety of assumptions about me and tell me it's 'sad' and I'm 'missing out.'
It's not just about 'not having sex.' It's about feeling like you're the only one at a concert that doesn't know the words. it’s about society making you feel like you're just a little bit off. My sexuality/romantic identity doesn't define me. I don't WANT it to be a big deal.
But it is. It is a big deal because all of you make it a big deal.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The moon owes some of its shine to the sun, you know. Especially tonight.
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Have you ever had a dream- that, you- um... where you- that...
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Altoona Tribune, Pennsylvania, October 15, 1938
“An astronomer says that some day the moon will fall to the earth and put it out of its misery, and then spoils everything by adding that this probably will not happen during the next million years.”
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There is something I want to say but I do not know how to say it.
There is something I need to say but I don’t know what it is.
It is quiet here in my world. it is always so quiet.
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I died but I came back exactly the same. You though, I came back and you were wrong. Did the fact of my dying really damage you that much? Was bringing me back worth what it cost you? Would it have been better to just leave me?
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stuckinapril (tumblr):
my main goal in life is genuinely just to have a good day
five year plan? have a good day. plans this weekend? have a good day. why i’m doing what i’m doing? bc i wanna have a good day. it is all about having a good day. nothing’s as precious as the present moment. neither the past nor the future. therefore i will make sure to spend it having a good day
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yousaveeveryonebutwhosavesyou (tumblr):
The thing is… everyone always tells you about the pretty side of falling in love and being in love. No one talks about the nights you spend lying awake for hours wondering if any of it is worth it. People can leave. People can fall out of love. People can change their minds. There is no way to know for sure if someone is going to stay. Love can only be secure through trust, but what about for someone who can’t trust. What about someone who was so brutally broken by the past that they never want to allow themself to fall again.
Love is fucking scary.
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I think I hide it pretty well. I think I make them all believe I am alright because I am functioning, but I don’t feel functional and when they ask if I’m okay, I’ll be honest. I’ll be honest but they won’t listen because no one truly wants to know.
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They think I’m hot!? Me!? When I’m standing next to YOU!?
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And if you love me, but you don't need me, then you don't love me.
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Laurasimonsdaughter (tumblr):
Day 24093
This is my house.
I won’t allow anyone to harm it.
There should have been no more intruders after the last one.
I do not want these people here.
They will leave-
Day 24095
They are siblings.
They are loud.
Always singing and talking and stomping,
As if they must be louder than anything else.
Day 24106
There are bolts on the door now.
Bolts and hideous, gaudy new locks.
How dare they-
Night 24112
I was going to fill the night with terrors.
But he woke up screaming before I began.
She came running from the other room.
They sleep right across the hall from each other, with the doors on a crack.
…they are young, are they not, to be living on their own.
Was I ever so young?
Day 24114
She has fixed the squeak in the door at the top of the stairs.
It never squeaked when I still lived.
Day 24121
The noise of the doorbell scares them,
But they get so many deliveries.
It is a good bell.
It has worked all these years.
I can see one of the men coming now with his packages, trudging up to the door.
…perhaps if I knock before he is here,
they will come and look before he can sound the bell.
Day 24129
He is planting flowers in boxes on my windowsills.
I always wished I could have some flowers.
Night 24137
She is afraid of the dark.
I could see it in her eyes when she got out of bed.
…I lit the lamps for her.
Day 24142
They have moved the couch to the sun spot a little to the right of the window.
That is where I used to have my armchair.
It is the only sensible place for it.
Day 24163
Sometimes the noises of the world are suddenly too much for him.
He winces and tries not to sway his head.
This is my house. …I can keep it calm and quiet for a while.
Day 24178
She just got a phone call and now they are both laughing.
Laughter is a good sound, isn’t it.
They said this house has been good luck…
Night 24205
They are singing in our kitchen.
He found my cookbook in the gap at the back of the kitchen cabinet,
And now they are trying to cook.
They wanted to start with the soufflé.
They don’t even know how to make béchamel!
I turned the page to the casserole instead.
Day 24236
This is my house.
These are my boarders.
I won’t allow anyone to harm them.
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I think you'll find you're mistaken. My name is clearly written across the front and I recognise the scratch down the side (that happened in high school). This is my heart. You can't just come here, and take it.
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I am asking you to listen to the promise in the static on the radio or the scratches on a record:
There is the chance for something not quite perfect to happen here tonight.
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When I am more than you can take, just give me back.
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How do you do it? Write like this?
Well, I don't really do anything :)
Everything that I speak about is a basic lesson in being human that everyone, no matter who you are, learns at some point in their life.
I just try and write about those lessons in a way that reminds people of what they already know.
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jsharbour (Instagram comment):
damn, the simps these days... what is the point of random comments like that? hoping for a like? so it's all about dopamine. That's what we're all here for right? That's why we cut ourselves. That's why we go on social media. The dopamine rush. we're all fucking addicts. we get our dopamine from crystal meth or coke or the rush of some pretty girl liking a comment. God damn this fucking world today.
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ASMR Stranger at the Station
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woobifiedvillain (tumblr):
Big fan of characters realizing they don't get to die. They have to live. And grow. And be a person. And deal with shit they thought they'd never have to. And be fucked up about it. I would like more of this. Enough dying for honor or as redemption. It ain't. You're just a corpse. There is no moral value in dirt time.
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“Someday, someone is going to look at you with a light in their eyes you’ve never seen, they’ll look at you like you’re everything they’ve been looking for their entire lives.
Wait for it.” — Unknown
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Never complain that you haven't been given things to say.
One day the world will destroy itself, and you will drown in the words you didn't think you had.
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don't conform. don't reform.
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This is me.
This is me talking to me.
When all i have is me.
But i was always waiting for someone to tell something like this to me.
To have someone know me as much as i knew myself.
I ignored me.
Thinking I’ll be happy with others.
Now I have other people to talk to. but they never tell me this.
they keep on disappointing me.
and i regret ever ignoring my own voice.
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Stardust.
[does wishing on stardust count?]
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And if you're alone, I hope you know that I'm alone too. So I believe we will be friends.
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If you're not who you used to be, you still have time to become who you could be.
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Psychology Warning
This video game psychologically profiles you as you play.
It gets to know who you really are then uses this information to change itself.
It uses this knowledge against you, creating your own personal nightmare.
This game plays you as much as you play it.
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I want to listen to you. I want to open the door. I want you to tell me your story, in your words. The books don't do it justice.
I can’t hear you unless you speak.
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The best way to be great, is to not try to be great. Do something good for someone, without seeking their thanks or their praise and you will be rewarded with a feeling from within. Which is a thousand times better than a feeling from without.
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c3rvida3 (tumblr):
I'm not a prayin' man, but the night I found out my at-the-time-fiancé had been sending sex horny nasty horny sex asks to my friend on THIS VERY WEBSITE, I sat in the car in the parking lot of an abandoned church and watched a family of deer play in the snow, and it didn't quite feel like a sign because that part of Pennsylvania was mostly deer and abandoned buildings and snow, but it felt nice, and once the tears stopped, I looked down at my phone and my other friend had sent me a text that said, "HE'S TRYING TO CHEAT ON YOU ON THE ONE DIRECTION IMAGINES WEBSITE?" and I realized that life is all about your curated experience. A real choose-your-own-adventure deal. I have never seen someone post about One Direction on here in my life.
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(Who Are You?)
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★ Dancing the Stars Away ~ Starlight Disco★
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max1461 (tumblr):
"I would never-"
You would if you were tired enough. You would if you were hungry enough. You would if your mind and body had been worn down enough, through pain or disease or toil or violent struggle. You might if you were put on the wrong medicine, or you got the wrong kind of head injury, or you were forced to choose between someone else and yourself. You might if your livelihood was staked on it, or all your hopes and dreams. You might if you didn't know what else to do, if it's what you were taught or if nobody taught you anything else.
I have not been worn down in most of these ways. I have lived a remarkably privileged life. But I have been worn down in some ways. And they were enough to teach me that in the wrong circumstances, any of us can become someone we don't want to be. It's worth keeping that in mind.
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Thank you for smiling. Or, at least, thank you for trying.
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icemaiden (tumblr):
what you allow continues. --> what you tolerate continues. --> what you show interest in is what brings more of that interest into your life. --> to often express an emotion like anger or joy will make people test it, tread its waters, treat you with that emotion in mind, thus making you choose between rejecting or accepting their understanding of you, instead of being neutral on it. --> if you get involved in fights and debate, more fights come to your doorstep. to think solemnly about your existence is to see answers and questions in everything. to participate in anything is to be enmeshed in it, touched back by it. --> to be bothered deeply by something personally repulsive is to touch it back when it tries to hold you, instead of washing your hands. --> you can work against something without allowing it to touch you inside. --> what you allow inside you continues.
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We can’t expect God to do all the work.
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liisbons (tumblr):
i just had a terrible, awful moment of deja vu. it filled me with a grief i’ve become so accustomed to feeling: a sadness of the past, of the sick girl i was; when i was barely able to hold up the weight of my life without my whole world crumbling. if i could go back and help her i would. i kinda miss her. she was optimistic yet so, so, sad. i remember i couldn’t even see a path for my future, i could barely see past a day, a week, at a time. all i could do was go one minute after another until the time slowly ticked away forwards. i couldnt even recognise myself in the mirror. i couldn’t see myself as a true, living, person. i would wake up and think, this is just a dream isnt it?. i was senseless to everything around me. i was so deep in depression that my chest was numb. the only thing that could pierce the sadness was the anxiety.
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dayraine (tumblr):
Sometimes I have a strong urge to jump in front of a train, just to see the last flash of light, rumbling towards me, impossibly fast yet impossibly slow (for time stands still and the precipice of death), and have that last light consume me as the train draws nearer and nearer until the light surrounds me and the train's rumbling masks the beating of my heart and the train whistle masks my screams and then Nothing
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If it was easy, everyone would do it. But it's not. Which is why it's up to you.
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We all know about the trolley problem. An impossible scenario of life and death: do you kill one innocent orphan boy, or a group of wanted criminals? Your elderly grandma, or a child you don’t know?
We see it when we vote, when we buy. We dream of it in visions. Of the apocalypse.
But at some point, when we are tired of choosing who deserves to be spared, it becomes relevant to ask. . .
Who keeps tying people to the tracks?
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howelljenkins (tumblr):
having to come to terms with the fact that love is not an everlasting performance in which you attempt to retain the attention of your significant other but rather a release of control and putting faith into them and trusting them to choose to stay with you no matter what you have to offer.
To love and be loved is to rest.
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"Are you watching me sleep? why do you do that? That can't be entertaining"
“you would think so, but I watch as if watching a painting take form before my eyes in a life filled motion stilled on a frame on a backdrop of Nightfall. You are the changing phases of the moon personified, how could I look away and miss a mystical event like this?”
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(we were friends once)
(maybe even lovers)
(you say it so softly with too much knowing in your voice)
(who left first? I don’t remember now)
(the only thing I do remember)
(is that love doesn’t really die)
(but it does rot)
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I made loneliness a home. Your ghost moved in next door. (You should come get your stuff.)
I kept changing rooms, but the ghost kept occupying the next one to mine... then one day, I decided to make friends with him. That was when he lost interest and fled.
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Crying With A Sense Of Human
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(The highways are filled with the dead inside).
The highways are filled with people on their way to other people.
(Look at the way they're looking at you with glassy eyes).
Look at how lonely they are and desperate for another human.
(The world needs to be burned down. Look at the news).
The world is filled with beautiful people. Look at the news.
(Never apologise).
I'm sorry.
(I am me).
No.
You're not.
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This is the song I only sing when you're sleeping. These are the words I say when you can't hear me. This is the way I look when you can't see me. And you will never know.
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“If the type of person you wish existed, doesn't, then that is who you must become.”
“And what if the God you believed in never existed?”
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It’s so hard to say it, but darling, let’s face it,
These feelings, revealing, cannot be ignored!
So I’ll work on this letter, ‘till our timing gets better,
Sincerely, yours truly, and forevermore.
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My throat is all closed up
Won’t you please cut it open for me?
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You are allowed to make mistakes. Write the first draft and keep in the errors. It doesn’t need to be perfect, or new, or even good - it just has to be yours.
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queer-for-science (tumblr):
One of my closest friends is aroace, and he's talked to me about the experience of being made to feel like he's missing out on something or getting left behind in a way when his loved ones enter romantic relationships. But it really hit home for me how much he deals with and expects this recently when I started dating someone new after being single for a few months and I wanted to share.
During the months I was single, we got a lot closer and we both relied on each other more to have our needs for love fulfilled. For example, we both have physical touch as a primary love language, so we did a lot of platonic physical affection and cuddling. We became main supports in each other's lives even more than before. But the day I told my friend about my new partner and my friend met him, he seemed to kind of instantly back off a bit. He and my partner get along really, really well too. He mentioned that he didnt expect my partner and I to make the hour drive to visit him as often because "it's not like the nature of y'alls relationship". I'm having difficulty explaining, but it was apparent that my friend expected to be taking a back seat to this new relationship in my life despite the fact that I know my friend way better and that broke my heart a bit. I immediately thought, how many times has he had to deal with that? How many beloved friends has he lost to this situation? That must be so horrible to go through! I still very much consider him one of my closest supports and while I know it would never be a necessary choice I would absolutely choose him over a partner I haven't had nearly as much time with. I really want to find a way to tell him that he isn't any less of a priority to me just because I'm not single anymore and I think it's important for us alloromantics to remind our aro and aroace friends of things like that. It's even more important to stick to that statement and show them we mean it.
My aroace friends, you deserve people in your life that prioritize you and engage in the kinds of intimacy you need. You deserve just as much closeness and love as anyone else and you will find it if thats what you want. You don't deserve being put on the back burner when your loved ones get into new romantic relationships and it's really shitty that so many people do that.
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Tonight the music seems so loud, I wish that we could lose this crowd…
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blazevillains (tumblr):
"how would YOU fix the medical system then ⸨◺_◿⸩" im 17 years old. like i dont need to be a carpenter to see that your ikea chair that impales everyone that sits on it and then shatters was put together wrong but that doesnt mean i know how to fix it
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It’s a universal truth that the person you marry is not the same person you divorce.
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You deserve to be comfortable – to feel like life is easy for a little while.
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♪ Everybody likes to get taken for turns, ♫
♫ To see how bright the fire inside of us burns, ♪
♪ And everybody wants to get evil tonight, ♫
♫ But all good devils masquerade under the light. ♪
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prototypesteve (tumblr):
Where else are you?
I came out as asexual aromantic earlier this year. I immediately joined the AVEN forums, which I learned about through the podcast Sounds Fake But Okay.
AVEN felt a bit quiet, compared to most forums or social sites, but I assumed that was because there weren’t that many Asexuals, and maybe we didn’t have much to talk about? (I was new to all this.)
So I checked Reddit, and it was fine. I was eager and new and talkative and seeing everything with the rosiest New Out Person glasses. But after three months, I got really turned off by the “actual asexuals” versus the rest of the asexual/aromantic spectrum, and I got so goddamned tired of 60% of the non-feud posts being people hating being asexual, doubting they were asexual, terrified they might be asexual, or sneakily taking shots at everyone who wasn’t asexual.
Then I found the ace, aro and wider queer scene on Tumblr, and it was like finding a magical forest enclave full of chaotic joy. Same problems, but more self-love. Same crises, but more determination. Same awful world, but more hope.
I found a place.
And now I hear it’s maybe in danger. And I want to be sad, but I’m also just used to good things going away. So what I really came here to ask, is where else are you? In the event this goes away, where else are you sharing your chaotic joy?
I’m prototypesteve on Threads, Instagram, and BlueSky.
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No one ever starts out as a hero.
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YOU’RE NOT DEAD YET YOU’RE NOT DEAD YET GET THE FUCK UP YOU’RE NOT DEAD YET IT ISN’T FUCKING OVER DRAG YOUR CORPSE KICKING AND SCREAMING INTO TOMORROW ONE DAY YOU WILL STOP SURVIVING AND START LIVING YOU ARE NOT FUCKING DEAD YET.
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Small, clumsy kindnesses, earnestly given, are more healing than you would believe. More adults should be willing to show the tender caring that a little kid expresses when they say, “You looked sad, so I brought you a rock.”
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Anonymous said...
ive been waiting on you.
waiting on you
to write me something new.
to write something true.
i know you interpret the
wavelengths of my heart.
how else would you know
exactly what to write?
you look in my eyes.
and swallow me whole.
you chew me for seconds.
and spit me out so.
yet you know who and what i am
so completely.....and maybe it is in my head...and maybe i need to calm down.....but the moment you spit me out.....i hurt. more than i have ever hurt before. i hope i left a sweet taste in your mouth...remember it and write me something sweet. mold the words from the taste i left in your mouth. I’ll always love you.
<3 me.
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My ridiculous secret : I still think she's perfect
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Take your time and craft the things you do. Love them. Love the process. God is in the details. And you can be an artist in everything you do.
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i know we’re both just messing around pretending to be whole but look at me. if the train was coming would you move. if the ground was falling from under your feet would you even notice or would it just be another tuesday for you. if somebody stabbed you could it hurt worse than you already do. what i’m saying is that i love you but i think we both drive over the speed limit when it’s raining. what i’m saying is that i want to hold your hand and i understand about how you sometimes have to sit down in the shower. what i’m saying is that i’m here for you and if the train comes please move.
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Seems our journey is now through
All is saved in thanks to you
There was something I should say, but
Surely it can wait
another day
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♪ Now I got your belly ring ♫
♫ Stuck on my tongue piece ♪
♪ Iron dripping now ♫
♫ I’m licking blood off the backseat ♪
♪ Janie’s got a gun ♫
♫ And she’s feeling trigger happy ♪
♪ Poppin’ bubblegum ♫
♫ And the barrel’s looking at me RRAAHH ♪
♪ I thought I told you ♫
♫ The Devil’s in the details ♪
♪ Take you to my dungeon ♫
♫ I better not hear you need help ♪
♪ Torture and Suffering! ♫
♫ Fuel me off your Misery! ♪
♪ I think you’re kinda cute ♫
♫ When you’re twisted all up in agony! ♪
♪ Babe ♫
♫ You know; I’d kill; for you ♪
♪ (I wanna kill for you) ♫
♫ So you KNOOWW ♪
♪ I’ll prob; bly kill; you too ♫
♫ (I’d probably kill you TWOOAAHH) ♪
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I hear the rain knocking on the windows. It feels like I am being called.
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Stuckinapril (tumblr):
i think i started seeing spending time alone differently when i was 18 and feeling small and lonely in a big and bustling city. i legit remember being so down but just putting on ripped boyfriend jeans and a cute crop top and my favorite perfume at the time and just walking for hours around the city. it was such a seismic shift for me. i perused stores by myself, treated myself to dinner, spent hours at the bookstore without checking my phone. it was such a power statement being one of very few people walking by myself in a busy shopping center and not feeling bad about it. i genuinely did not care whatsoever. it was actually so cathartic for me. for the first time ever i was not performing for anyone but actually just enjoying my time and my space and my being. now i adore spending time alone and don't see it as some kind of social failing. it's not. at all
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Sunbloomdew (tumblr):
do you ever see a person and you are overcome with incredible fondness? and you just think "oh." but not in a romantic or sexual way you are just filled with warmth and it makes you happy, it just does. and you think "i'm so happy you exist. i'm happy you are somewhere out there in the world, doing your thing". it's love but also not entirely, like people are lovely and i feel it in my entire chest like a burning candle that smells like roses and a sunny day
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I love the power of the second person perspective. like from a literary standpoint, the discomfort of you is so deeply appealing to me. it forces the reader to engage with a story in a way it is not required from other perspectives. in literature and in video games and in art; there is nothing better than when a story challenges my concept of self and tells me: forget everything you think you know. this is a story about you.
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Magdalenabay. We’re not selling a product - we’re selling a lifestyle.
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I’m done pounding my head,
Against the kitchen floor,
Apologising for my life,
And never entering yours.
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I never understood
what made your lips on my neck
such an intimate affair
until your teeth grazed my pulse
and I realised
you could tear open my throat
and make me bleed out in your arms
but instead
you chose to kiss.
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I pulled off your wings,
Then I laughed <\3
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falcon-doing-doodles (tumblr):
There's something oddly heartbreaking about being AroAce and seeing two friends of yours get together. Suddenly, your friendship has changed. They have each other in a way you don't, even if it's in a way you don't want with them, or anyone. You have to adjust for the fact that you might not be on even footing with them anymore, especially not when they're together with you. And you feel like you're playing second fiddle to someone you love, for someone you love. And even if you don't want their relationship, you'll still sometimes feel jealous of the fact that they have something you don't. Where once you were united under a single bond between the three of you, that bond isn't there anymore. It's changed into something different.
60 notes
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I wonder what you think. I wonder how you feel. I wonder what you say.
I wonder what you keep inside. The things you don't show to anybody.
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(59 of 106 pages so far.)