Part 1
Opening the door, the room has one night light emitting bright yellow but the rest is clutter and in total darkness. The room was a messy bedroom. Clothes were thrown on the floor, bottles/cans of soda on the tops of tables, items misplace. Finding anything in this mess is like finding gold in a mine. Every item I loved disappears in the pile of mess. Falling on to the bed in the room, I ponder over doing something productive for the rest of the day. Instead, I fall victim to bed comfort embrace and drift towards the land of dreams. I awoken again, the room is still a mess. Getting up, ready to start the day, there’s an eerie feeling in the air. It’s cold and almost surreal. It then start to feel painful. I feel sick for some reason but I just got up? I then roll back under the covers and slowly I revisit the dream realm. Awakening again, I ponder over the things I need to get done for today. There’s so much to do and so little time when their due. However, I just feel so tired and so unmotivated. I wanted to get up and do the things I need to get done but some unsee able force was drawing me back to comfort of my bed. I close my eyes yet again and hope that the next day won’t be like this.
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Pressure
“Please leave me alone.” I buried my head in my hands. “I really can’t deal with this right now.”
“Okay, I will. But please, just tell me what the problem is first,” you reply, the slight quiver of your voice exposing your worry - for me.
I hated that worry, and I lived off that worry. The worry repulsed me, and made me want to hug you. The worry made me guilty, because I could never be enough to deserve that worry. Because there were days like this where I felt completely worthless, and it was embarrassing that you had to see it when I tried so hard - so fucking hard - to hide this side of me.
“Please,” I said again. “I just get like this sometimes. I’m better alone when this stuff happens.” I felt involuntary tears slide down my face and I made sure to rub them back into my skin.
I don’t look up, but I know you’re staring at me. I wonder what you’re thinking. How troublesome, how problematic. How pitiful, how embarrassing.
Of course you wouldn’t be thinking that, though, because those are the thoughts in my head, and the thoughts in yours seem so beautiful and hopeful. I wish I could live in your head just for a second, and show my brain the other side - what it means to be okay, to be sane. But what if you’re also not sane? What if you hurt the same as I do, and if I go into your brain you’d feel not only your sadness, but mine as well. What if we didn’t share pain, but burdened each other with it?
Finally, I hear your footsteps move towards the door. I keep my head in my hands. As you approach the door frame, the steps pause. “I’ll check up on you later, okay? I know you need your alone time, but for my sake I’ll be coming back.” And then you leave, and, finally alone, I begin to cry.
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anyway, Elden Ring is about love and hope
Marika burns everything she has build out of sorrow
Ranni banishes the Outer Gods and also fucks off the Lands, giving agency back to the normal beings of the Lands
Fortissax endlessly fights Death for his friend/lover
Melina burns herself and Erdtree in hopes of a better world in the hands of the Tarnished
Blaidd fights against the very reason he was created out of love for his sister
Ranni and Rykard always keep an eye on their mother, protecting her
Radahn evokes so much love from his troops that they organise a whole festival to give him a honorable death even in his madness
Radahn learns an entire new school of magic in order to still ride his favourite horse
Boc's love for his mother, his mother's love for him
How all but two endings are build on the hope that this new era (whatever it might be) will be good
Miquella attempting to create an whole new world-tree to host the forsaken and the damned
Miquella turning on the faith he was raised and even believed in to an extent, when it was unable to cure his sister's curse
The Cleanrot's loyalty to Malenia and their endurance of the Rot, only to stay in her service
Malenia marching through the entire continent in search of her brother
Finlay traveling all the way back on her own, carrying the incapacitated demigod on her back
Tanith's love for Rya
Dialos' entire questline
Edgar being driven mad after his daughter dies
Vyke embracing, to a point, the Frenzied Flame in order to save his finger maiden
or you know, that's just how I see it
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Furina: Anyone I've ever worked with probably couldn't wait to get rid of me... Since I'm just an ordinary person now. They'll probably just laugh in my face if I go asking them for help... :(
Neuvillette, the second Furina asks him about booking the Opera Epiclese, the process for which is notably cumbersome and complex: Yes, I will take care of it immediately. Btw does this mean you will allow audiences (myself included) to enjoy your outstanding acting talents once more? 🥺
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The things you create don’t have to make sense! They can be messy and wild! They can be confusing and strange! They can be ugly and weird! Stop tethering your sense of creativity to what other people will accept. You deserve to create without inhibition.
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And I said, “Hello, Satan
I believe it’s time to go.”
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I wasn't good enough, but I tried to be.
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Math tells us the saddest love stories
"Parallel lines were never meant to meet"
"Tangent lines only meet once and grow apart forever"
"Asymptotes get closer and closer but will never be together "
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btw quick reminder that if you're a terf you're not welcome here
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psa that the day there are no jgy stans left on tumblr dot com is the day i am dead
but rest assured i'll go to my grave exactly as i lived: obnoxiously proclaiming to everyone within earshot how great lianfang-zun is. narratively, metaphorically, spiritually. sexually, too, like why limit myself. i like to keep my options open
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i feel passionately about the need to enfold people experiencing (or diagnosed) with "just" depression or anxiety into the mad pride project. the more people who view themselves as mad, the better. much as the rhetorical move from "neurotypical" to "neuroconforming" emphasizes the artifice & social construction of "neurotypicality," so too will expanding identification as "mad" expose the sane/mad dichotomy as a false one.
it's true that (some) people with "just" depression and/or anxiety have an easier time navigating the psych system than people who have more stigmatized diagnoses. but this is not to say that they necessarily have an easy time — the carceral psych system is hostile to everyone subsumed by it, even the most "privileged" patients. we should of course critique & examine how our experiences are shaped by various intersections of privilege, but we cannot forget or ignore how someone with "just" a depression/anxiety diagnosis can still experience the full force of the carceral psych system brought down upon them (including but not limited to involuntary institutionalization, police intervention, & forced medication or other forced treatment).
we must encourage, if not insist, that those with the least-stigmatized diagnoses view their difficult experiences navigating the psych system as bound up with the liberation of people who have more stigmatized diagnoses &, often, a more violent experience of the psych system. we need more people to drop the "i have anxiety/depression but i'm not crazy" line and say loudly, "i have anxiety/depression & i am crazy. my access to just treatment is linked to the conditions of all other crazy people, who are my allies, peers, & friends. we are united in our cause & we all deserve a more liberating system of care."
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Quisiera decirle a mi yo de niño que no tuvo la culpa de todo lo que pasó.
Ni por lo que tuvo que vivir, Lex.
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there is something so comforting about sadness. about throwing things on your bedroom floor and not picking them up. about binging reality tv in the dark for 14 hours straight. about lying in your bed and not moving while the world continues to turn around you. overwhelming and heavy depression is comforting because it’s familiar. it allows you to sink into yourself and rot there for as long as you want. thats the vicious cycle with depression, it takes everything to not give into the comfort and familiarity that comes with it.
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I love how the interview with the vampire trailer is sexy and mysterious and then the show is a borderline dark comedy about the retelling of vampire history's most cringe fail marriage between the worst case of catholic guilt and eldest daughter syndrome being romanced by a dumpster fire gremlin that thinks more with his heart and dick than his non-existent brain and the coolest character in the whole story is their murderous daughter
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So, like. Had more time to ruminate on it. And Across the Spiderverse is what a story about a super-powered kid should be. It’s a story about this kid who wants to be a hero more than anything. He is a hero. But he’s a kid too. And he says, “Why can’t I save everyone?” Why can’t he? What is the point of being a hero if you don’t try to save everyone. And then movie sits you (the audience) down and spells it out: you see all these kids? Yeah, they’ve LOST the people they love. It’s a sacrifice for being this way. *shrugs* That’s just how it is, kid. And we can’t change it because we lost that fight already.
And Miles. Oh man, this kid. He’s says, “Fuck that. I write MY story and no one else.” And then he’s an anomaly and he wasn’t even supposed to BE the hero.
And you stop. And you think. That’s the point. It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re supposed to be the hero. You choose it. It’s not destiny. It doesn’t matter if the spider bit you or someone else. What matters is that you’re a kid and you’re gonna save the people you love no matter what because that’s what you choose to believe in.
Idk, man. Maybe stories about heroes should be more about hope and love and defying expectation and less about the tragedy of giving up everything for the sake of the world. Maybe some times you DO save everyone. You know, as a treat.
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