sameulrodriguez

[sameulrodriguez]

You know, one time I read a fanfic and it triggered my psychosis, sent me into a month long episode THEN a whole year later I was on ao3 just mindlessly scrolling, I came across the fanfic title and it gave me a panic attack, but something compelled me to click it, i didn't read it but i did scroll through it, why? mental illness.

So like... ya

This is me responding to your old(?) post about someone else's fiction not being able to hurt you, this is probably just a me thing but mental illness makes you do things and react to things in insane ways that sometimes you cant control. I knew while reading that it was affecting me in some way, but I kept reading because well, I'm mentally ill, and then a month of my life dissapeared lol

I think I'm trying to make a point about something but I'm not sure

I did after the fact comment to the author and just kinda, told them about what happened, but I didn't harrassed them or something, -

-but when something does what this fanfiction did to me then you're basically obligated to let the creator know I think(they are a really good writer), I'm an adult and the fanfic was in the ballpark of something I would read and if like, 59% of it was taken out and it had a happy ending I would be fine but oh well

Oh boy, I'm starting to have a panic attack just typing this out holy hell anyways uh, I'm not disagreeing with you(?) but I am saying, don't be too quick to dismiss someone who says a piece of fiction fucked with them? idk sorry, have a good one

My friend, the fiction didn’t harm you.

Your mental illness harmed you.

Random writers on the internet are not responsible for managing your mental illness for you.

You are responsible for managing your mental illness.

I knew while reading that it was affecting me in some way, but I kept reading because well, I’m mentally ill

This is self harm. You were engaging in self-harming behavior by continuing to read a fanfiction that you knew was triggering to you.

👉 You are responsible for managing your mental illness.

👉 Writers are not responsible for managing your mental illness for you.

And I hate to tell you this but messaging the author about it was absolutely harassing the author.

[sameulrodriguez]

not complaining lol

[sameulrodriguez]

Bro is the spectrum

i have that autism spectrum in me

[sameulrodriguez]

learning that people want you in their lives is a skill you can develop if it does not come naturally

[sameulrodriguez]

consensual kink my beloved

[sameulrodriguez]

Shoutout to everyone with highly stigmatized mental illnesses. When you see those “mental illness” positivity posts and feel that sinking feeling in your stomach that you think they don’t mean you.

I mean you. You are all wonderful and I see how hard you’re trying.

[sameulrodriguez]

#straight privilege

[sameulrodriguez]

Maybe pack of candy cost more than that?

it's not natural for candy to be $3.49. candy is supposed to be one dollar

[sameulrodriguez]

“You should be aware that casting this spell will legally require me to take your firstborn child” said the Witch, “but the meaning of ‘take’ was never defined, so I imagine we can figure out a loophole or two that’d work for you.”

[sameulrodriguez]

the universal college experience, no matter your major, is learning how remarkably fucked everything is. except business majors theyre having a great time learning to do basic arithmetic and and staring at that one supply and demand graph where the line goes up

[sameulrodriguez]

Corpse Writing Excersize

A paper would be passed around and we would each write a sentence or two, then the original writer would edit the writing to make it make sense. Here was mine!

Oliver loved the color red. This was because he was normal. As normal as can be. Sure, he loved a lot of things: grapes, playing catch, picking berries, hugging trees, but what he loved more than anything else was the color red. At the moment, he was peeking out at the magnificent sculptures from his hiding place behind the clock tower. He admired how the giant iron bodies reached out toward the sky or danced in among the grass. He thought how amazing it was that they had been built thousands of years ago and amazing how people were thinking and feeling the same things as he was as he glanced at the sculptures.

Something he often wondered behind the clocktower, was if people thought the same way about the sculptures. Did they see them for their true beauty? Or did they just see them as a symbol of wealth in a capitalist society? He knew both were true to some degree, and it both saddened him and excited him. He often wondered if one day he wouldn’t feel so alone, but somewhere in the back of his head he knew that would never happen.

“Why would you ever think that you would be viewed as anything more than a poor boy with a useless dream?” He would tell himself. He often looks up at the sky and thinks to himself “what does the color purple taste like?” to “am I going insane?” 

Then, at the end of the day, he would go back home, the woman working that day would scold him for being out too long, and he would rush to bed. Instead of going to sleep though, he would think and dream about the sculpture of the woman with the bow, always about to tip over, or the boy reading a book, “what book was he reading?” Oliver would think out loud accidentally. But all in all, he was happy with the clock tower and gazing at the sculptures from afar.

[sameulrodriguez]

Corpse Writing Excersize

A paper would be passed around and we would each write a sentence or two, then the original writer would edit the writing to make it make sense. Here was mine!

Oliver loved the color red. This was because he was normal. As normal as can be. Sure, he loved a lot of things: grapes, playing catch, picking berries, hugging trees, but what he loved more than anything else was the color red. At the moment, he was peeking out at the magnificent sculptures from his hiding place behind the clock tower. He admired how the giant iron bodies reached out toward the sky or danced in among the grass. He thought how amazing it was that they had been built thousands of years ago and amazing how people were thinking and feeling the same things as he was as he glanced at the sculptures.

Something he often wondered behind the clocktower, was if people thought the same way about the sculptures. Did they see them for their true beauty? Or did they just see them as a symbol of wealth in a capitalist society? He knew both were true to some degree, and it both saddened him and excited him. He often wondered if one day he wouldn’t feel so alone, but somewhere in the back of his head he knew that would never happen.

“Why would you ever think that you would be viewed as anything more than a poor boy with a useless dream?” He would tell himself. He often looks up at the sky and thinks to himself “what does the color purple taste like?” to “am I going insane?” 

Then, at the end of the day, he would go back home, the woman working that day would scold him for being out too long, and he would rush to bed. Instead of going to sleep though, he would think and dream about the sculpture of the woman with the bow, always about to tip over, or the boy reading a book, “what book was he reading?” Oliver would think out loud accidentally. But all in all, he was happy with the clock tower and gazing at the sculptures from afar.

[sameulrodriguez]

Corpse Writing Excersize

A paper would be passed around and we would each write a sentence or two, then the original writer would edit the writing to make it make sense. Here was mine!

Oliver loved the color red. This was because he was normal. As normal as can be. Sure, he loved a lot of things: grapes, playing catch, picking berries, hugging trees, but what he loved more than anything else was the color red. At the moment, he was peeking out at the magnificent sculptures from his hiding place behind the clock tower. He admired how the giant iron bodies reached out toward the sky or danced in among the grass. He thought how amazing it was that they had been built thousands of years ago and amazing how people were thinking and feeling the same things as he was as he glanced at the sculptures.

Something he often wondered behind the clocktower, was if people thought the same way about the sculptures. Did they see them for their true beauty? Or did they just see them as a symbol of wealth in a capitalist society? He knew both were true to some degree, and it both saddened him and excited him. He often wondered if one day he wouldn’t feel so alone, but somewhere in the back of his head he knew that would never happen.

“Why would you ever think that you would be viewed as anything more than a poor boy with a useless dream?” He would tell himself. He often looks up at the sky and thinks to himself “what does the color purple taste like?” to “am I going insane?” 

Then, at the end of the day, he would go back home, the woman working that day would scold him for being out too long, and he would rush to bed. Instead of going to sleep though, he would think and dream about the sculpture of the woman with the bow, always about to tip over, or the boy reading a book, “what book was he reading?” Oliver would think out loud accidentally. But all in all, he was happy with the clock tower and gazing at the sculptures from afar.

[sameulrodriguez]

Corpse Writing Excersize

A paper would be passed around and we would each write a sentence or two, then the original writer would edit the writing to make it make sense. Here was mine!

Oliver loved the color red. This was because he was normal. As normal as can be. Sure, he loved a lot of things: grapes, playing catch, picking berries, hugging trees, but what he loved more than anything else was the color red. At the moment, he was peeking out at the magnificent sculptures from his hiding place behind the clock tower. He admired how the giant iron bodies reached out toward the sky or danced in among the grass. He thought how amazing it was that they had been built thousands of years ago and amazing how people were thinking and feeling the same things as he was as he glanced at the sculptures.

Something he often wondered behind the clocktower, was if people thought the same way about the sculptures. Did they see them for their true beauty? Or did they just see them as a symbol of wealth in a capitalist society? He knew both were true to some degree, and it both saddened him and excited him. He often wondered if one day he wouldn’t feel so alone, but somewhere in the back of his head he knew that would never happen.

“Why would you ever think that you would be viewed as anything more than a poor boy with a useless dream?” He would tell himself. He often looks up at the sky and thinks to himself “what does the color purple taste like?” to “am I going insane?” 

Then, at the end of the day, he would go back home, the woman working that day would scold him for being out too long, and he would rush to bed. Instead of going to sleep though, he would think and dream about the sculpture of the woman with the bow, always about to tip over, or the boy reading a book, “what book was he reading?” Oliver would think out loud accidentally. But all in all, he was happy with the clock tower and gazing at the sculptures from afar.

[sameulrodriguez]

Corpse Writing Excersize

A paper would be passed around and we would each write a sentence or two, then the original writer would edit the writing to make it make sense. Here was mine!

Oliver loved the color red. This was because he was normal. As normal as can be. Sure, he loved a lot of things: grapes, playing catch, picking berries, hugging trees, but what he loved more than anything else was the color red. At the moment, he was peeking out at the magnificent sculptures from his hiding place behind the clock tower. He admired how the giant iron bodies reached out toward the sky or danced in among the grass. He thought how amazing it was that they had been built thousands of years ago and amazing how people were thinking and feeling the same things as he was as he glanced at the sculptures.

Something he often wondered behind the clocktower, was if people thought the same way about the sculptures. Did they see them for their true beauty? Or did they just see them as a symbol of wealth in a capitalist society? He knew both were true to some degree, and it both saddened him and excited him. He often wondered if one day he wouldn’t feel so alone, but somewhere in the back of his head he knew that would never happen.

“Why would you ever think that you would be viewed as anything more than a poor boy with a useless dream?” He would tell himself. He often looks up at the sky and thinks to himself “what does the color purple taste like?” to “am I going insane?” 

Then, at the end of the day, he would go back home, the woman working that day would scold him for being out too long, and he would rush to bed. Instead of going to sleep though, he would think and dream about the sculpture of the woman with the bow, always about to tip over, or the boy reading a book, “what book was he reading?” Oliver would think out loud accidentally. But all in all, he was happy with the clock tower and gazing at the sculptures from afar.

[sameulrodriguez]

Corpse Writing Excersize

A paper would be passed around and we would each write a sentence or two, then the original writer would edit the writing to make it make sense. Here was mine!

Oliver loved the color red. This was because he was normal. As normal as can be. Sure, he loved a lot of things: grapes, playing catch, picking berries, hugging trees, but what he loved more than anything else was the color red. At the moment, he was peeking out at the magnificent sculptures from his hiding place behind the clock tower. He admired how the giant iron bodies reached out toward the sky or danced in among the grass. He thought how amazing it was that they had been built thousands of years ago and amazing how people were thinking and feeling the same things as he was as he glanced at the sculptures.

Something he often wondered behind the clocktower, was if people thought the same way about the sculptures. Did they see them for their true beauty? Or did they just see them as a symbol of wealth in a capitalist society? He knew both were true to some degree, and it both saddened him and excited him. He often wondered if one day he wouldn’t feel so alone, but somewhere in the back of his head he knew that would never happen.

“Why would you ever think that you would be viewed as anything more than a poor boy with a useless dream?” He would tell himself. He often looks up at the sky and thinks to himself “what does the color purple taste like?” to “am I going insane?” 

Then, at the end of the day, he would go back home, the woman working that day would scold him for being out too long, and he would rush to bed. Instead of going to sleep though, he would think and dream about the sculpture of the woman with the bow, always about to tip over, or the boy reading a book, “what book was he reading?” Oliver would think out loud accidentally. But all in all, he was happy with the clock tower and gazing at the sculptures from afar.

[sameulrodriguez]

Corpse Writing Excersize

A paper would be passed around and we would each write a sentence or two, then the original writer would edit the writing to make it make sense. Here was mine!

Oliver loved the color red. This was because he was normal. As normal as can be. Sure, he loved a lot of things: grapes, playing catch, picking berries, hugging trees, but what he loved more than anything else was the color red. At the moment, he was peeking out at the magnificent sculptures from his hiding place behind the clock tower. He admired how the giant iron bodies reached out toward the sky or danced in among the grass. He thought how amazing it was that they had been built thousands of years ago and amazing how people were thinking and feeling the same things as he was as he glanced at the sculptures.

Something he often wondered behind the clocktower, was if people thought the same way about the sculptures. Did they see them for their true beauty? Or did they just see them as a symbol of wealth in a capitalist society? He knew both were true to some degree, and it both saddened him and excited him. He often wondered if one day he wouldn’t feel so alone, but somewhere in the back of his head he knew that would never happen.

“Why would you ever think that you would be viewed as anything more than a poor boy with a useless dream?” He would tell himself. He often looks up at the sky and thinks to himself “what does the color purple taste like?” to “am I going insane?” 

Then, at the end of the day, he would go back home, the woman working that day would scold him for being out too long, and he would rush to bed. Instead of going to sleep though, he would think and dream about the sculpture of the woman with the bow, always about to tip over, or the boy reading a book, “what book was he reading?” Oliver would think out loud accidentally. But all in all, he was happy with the clock tower and gazing at the sculptures from afar.