#im full of existential fear

[rhysdoesstuff]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

STAY SAFE!!

WOOOOOOO!

#its time #yay! #im serious stay safe #Pride #Pride month #LGBTQ+ #Here #queer #full of existential fear

[dr-drea]

I am finally going to watch First Kill, not because i am that keen to watch it (not the biggest fan of trashy dialogue lol), but because my straight roommate watched it, and the fact that she knows a piece of wlw culture that i don't know feels like an insult to my queerness.

#first kill #lets go #wlw culture #not the best reason to support queer media but well #do i even need a reason to consume gay? #im here and queer and full of existential fear #hope that's enough lol

[revon-aurora-borealis]

guys i literally cannot take how braindead r/Emkay is anymore im fucking leaving

also whoever started that stupid skinwalker meme needs to never cook again, nothing like scrolling reddit and then having a mini anxiety attack over seeing that stupid ass meme with a scary monster that basically says "repost this or i say you die" and so you do because you have severe gad and a somewhat superstitious side because of it

like im suicidal as well and that meme is so fucking triggering, and no i dont mean like "oh i just saw an mpreg anime character meme" """"triggering"""" I MEAN LIKE ACTUALLY TRIGGERING, LIKE I ACTUALLY BECOME ANXIOUS AND SCARED BECAUSE OF IT, LIKE I ACTUALLY END UP HAVING EXISTENTIAL DREAD AND SOMEWHAT FEARING FOR MY LIFE

like its like being sent a desth threat but "oh haha its just a meme why are you so scared it snot tuat serious" like bitch that was obviously going to trigger some people you literally are using all the pressure you can to get someone to repost it

#mental health #wtf #emkay #reddit #r/emkay is just fucking cancer at this point #cw suicide #cw death #its the most insensitive meme ive ever seen in my life and thats really saying something im a pretry active member on r/BlatantMisogyny #its so fucking insensitive i hope it gets banned #i dont blame everyone who reposts it like me but ik at least like 30% or 50% of people posting it are just doing it as a joke #and not doing it out of pure fear like me #gad #anxiety #severe anxiety #ocd #ive been told i dont have ocd but i have ocd like tendencies that get in the way of life tbh #prolly should get re evaluated for that tbh #existential crisis #also i wish people didnt use “triggering” or “traumatizing” so lightly #cuz then those of us who actually get triggered by shit arent taken seriously and it really fucking hurts and makes things worse #just say like “cursed” or “terrifying” or specifiy you arent actually full on having a real mental crisis by saying smth like #“im having a glimpse of [disorder] rn”

[skaldish]

hey, I recently had to interact with an evangelical family member on thanksgiving (as in, I calmly listened and explained "my views and values differ from yours, but I appreciate you sharing your world view with me" while I was aggressively proselytized at for well over an hour; even by evangelical standards, this family member is aggressive about pushing his beliefs onto others).

I was raised atheist and don't usually have an issue with this; I don't believe in hell or divine punishment, but things he said keep popping into my head (like being called "the definition of being lost" for saying im agnostic— which is a half truth but he wouldn't be receptive to a full explanation). I'm tacking this down to a combination of evangelical thought poison and my anxiety disorder related habit of ruminating (which thankfully I'm working with a therapist on now).

I know you're passionate about the subject of cult thought and the likes and just wanted to know if you had any advice or thoughts re: getting cult thinking that doesn't align with your views or values to kindly edit your headspace.

hope you're well 💚

Apologetics. It's something every Evangelical learns, and it's a form of mind-control. They engage nonbelievers in religious debate and use it to covertly indoctrinate them.

Evangelicals spend years learning how to counter every argument, direct conversations towards specific points, compromise our mental reasoning through various means, and inject their logic into the vulnerable mind, which then festers on its own.

Apologetics is a masterstroke of manipulation, and one of the very few things I consider evil.

My best friend is ex-Evangelical and well-versed in Apologetics. A while back, they gave me an example of how it works (with my consent of course).

Now, I'm extremely good at entertaining ideas without adopting them. It's a skill I deliberately and constantly wield, almost subconsciously at this point.

There's no way I could do it. The more you think it over, the deeper it digs into your brain. All an Evangelical has to do is feed you enough information and your own thoughts will do the work from there.

My friend wasn't even simulating an actual instance of proselytizing; they framed things within the context of, "This is what they'd say." And yet I could literally feel my mind tunnel at the logic, burrowing its way deeper every time I thought, "But what if...?"

I did throw it, though. The way I shook it off was Occam's Razor: "Simpler explanations are more likely to be correct."

Evangelical philosophy is too complex to be statistically probable compared to other frameworks. It even compensates for this by portraying itself as the only safe bet in a high-stakes game. But the reason we find it so compelling is because it makes us fear for our survival. It's the same fear we get when we hear rustling in the bushes when there's a predator around...only this time the tiger is something we can't know. Regardless, our lizard-brains will always take a false positive over a false negative in those situations, and will try to do so if it succumbs to the existential dread. This evil, perfect storm is what drives people to convert.

I've seen many forms of mental manipulation, but Apologetics is a weapon unlike any other.

So here's my advice to you and everyone else:

When it comes to the Evangelical debate game, the only winning move is not to play.

Do everything you can do avoid the topic of religion in conversation, and make a concentrated effort to give it as little breathing room as possible. Bring up a different topic. Say "no thanks" and move on. Ask questions about secular things. Ignore the religious content peppered within statements. Be cordial, but never ever let up on that boundary.

I don't know your relative, but I do know Evangelicals never respond well when denied a platform. They may try to persuade, provoke, trick, or guilt you into giving it to them, so be prepared to hold your ground if you have to interact with them. If all else fails, excuse yourself from the conversation.

Remember: It's not rude to hold a boundary. Don't let anyone convince you that it is.

#answered #tw religious trauma #description of how apologetics works

[ultramegagigamax3]

1: its just not my year / toby rogers

but im all good here

sunday morning

hands over my knees in a

room full of faces

im sorry if i seemed off,

but i was probably wasted

and didnt feel so good

masterlist ~ next

!Content Warnings!: homophobic slurs, bullying, references to drug use, vomiting

Somewhere, rural America

Your mother says that God is always giving signs, to never be surprised, always be prepared, and take whatever He gives you with open arms, no matter how you may hurt. You had believed it as a child, but after that day, you aren’t so sure. It had been a day like any other, as generally excruciating today as it would be tomorrow. Perhaps the maddening repetition of each passing day was a sign in and of itself? God had made the rising hours of the day so excessively same it had crossed over into the unusual, therefore being a supernatural sign, right? Repetition is said to drive anyone insane, let alone a tweaker like you. You splash your face with water, then grip the edges of your dirtied and broken bathroom sink; yeah, you think, that has to be it. God hasn’t abandoned me yet.

<3

Earlier that day

You were lazing on the couch in your living room, one of your younger siblings lay across your chest. You were resting your head back on one arm rest and your legs dangled over the other; there had been a time when they didn’t hang like that, and you had begun to miss it. The 4-year-old is resting his little head on your collar bone, turned to the side as he has his eyes glued to the T.V. He had drooled on your pastel yellow tank top and was fighting to stay awake, so as to continue watching whatever garbage was playing. He is small and very chubby, making him heavy on your lungs. You didn’t mind though, a fat baby was better than a starving baby, you knew that better than anyone else. You stare up at the popcorn ceiling, an expanse you have studied a million times over. You had pulled an all-nighter, as per usual, and so you had been the only one awake to catch Joseph, the boy, crying from the living room. You didn’t know how to comfort him, you didn’t know how to comfort anyone, you just gave him a hug and turned on the T.V. Your eyes drift to the wall above the couch, every corner filled with tacky crosses of various styles and designs. You had stared at these crosses many times, during lectures and scoldings that you tuned out. You had once been in awe at the wall, when you were a child, but the novelty and charm was lost on you long ago. You have been like this for about an hour, and you would continue like this until the boy fell asleep. Staying still for long was a challenge for you, constantly twitching, cracking, rubbing, and itching at your hands. Your feet twist and bend in their sockets, your legs swing, bounce, and kick at the air. It was as if there was a constant electrical current going through your body. No part of your body felt relaxed, at ease, eternally nervous and tense, even in your own home. You could feel Joseph’s little heartbeat against your stomach, and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to be pregnant. You squirm at the thought, and your mind and body are filled with dread. Just the idea of it makes you feel sick, fills you with the sort of existential fear you might feel when thinking about death. Your brother’s breathing slows, and now you can finally push yourself off the couch.

You hold the sleeping body tight as you bring him to your room. Well, yours and three of your sisters. You place the boy in your bed, not your choice but waking your mother now would raise hell, and tuck him in. The sheets are baby pink with an outdated brown pattern, totally 2000’s. You placed your stuffed childhood lamb against his chest and swiftly escaped. It was early in the morning, about 6 am now, the time you should be waking up. Your steps are near silent on the stained grey-brown, once white, carpet as you begin your morning. You push open the door to the family bathroom and lock yourself in before showering and brushing your teeth. You track a trail of water back to your room and grab the first pieces of clothing you see, quiet as to not wake the tiny beast in your bed. You make your way back to the bathroom, trailing more water, and, again, lock the door. Theres a small window high above the shower, to let light in while still having privacy. It was never glazed over or given a curtain, and so you had a habit of staring at it, as if you would catch someone trying to peak in. You assess the clothing you had grabbed in the darkness: a pair of small jean shorts, a red T-shirt, and your underwear. It would have to do. You dress quickly and turn to the mirror above the sink, the countertop littered with makeup. You decide on something simple; makeup is a habit drilled into you by your mother. It wasn’t about liking or disliking in this house, it is about what Mother and Father want. You finish and slip on your white socks, escaping the bathroom to search for a pair of shoes.

When you exit, a couple of your brothers and sisters are already scurrying about the house, rushing to get ready. You dodge and weave both small and large bodies, making your way into the kitchen. There, you find the 15-year-old Laura, the second oldest girl, after you, and the second mother of the household. She has made seven bowls of cereal, all the children excluding the two babies. Laura is dressed in a private school uniform, the smartest kid in the family, and is making quick work of tying the twins’ long hair into ponytails. Savannah and Violet, a mischievous 8-year-old duo, are whispering to each other about some anime or whatever they had watched the day prior. You silently chew at your Fruit Loops as you watch Laura struggle.

“You know, you could actually, like, help, you know?” She spits, earning a small yelp from Violet when she pulls her hair too hard.

You shrug, even though she doesn’t see it, “Uh, maybe later.” You lie.

The 10-year-old Zack barrels into the kitchen, snatches a bowl off the counter, and makes a break to get away. “Zack!” Laura hisses, and the boy stops in his tracks, “What are you doing?”

“Breakfast.” He replies, innocently.

“Eat at the table.” You demand, though more casual and less irritated than Laura, gesturing in the table’s direction.

“But I don’t want to.” He states, matter of fact, as if it were stupid to even think of giving the boy a command.

You walk over to the boy and place a firm grip on the back of his neck, marching him over to the table. He sits with a defeated huff and begins to eat. You raise your brows at Laura. “There, I helped.” You smirk, before leaving the kitchen and ignoring whatever little witty quip she spat back. As you walk out, you’re almost run over by Benny, 12, followed by your mother. A strange silence falls over the kitchen.

“Get the hell out of the way.” Your mother pushes past you as she shoves Benny, still in his pajamas, into the kitchen.

You don’t bother to stick around and find out what she’s so pissed about, just keep your mouth shut and move on. Behind the muffling of the door, you can hear Laura talk back to your mother, thus beginning the first argument of the morning. Back in the living room of your tiny, dilapidated house, you find Michael, 17-years-old. He is sitting on the couch, fully dressed but not making any move to go to the kitchen.

“Food’s ready.” You slur, mouth full of cereal. He doesn’t reply, he either didn’t hear you or is just straight up ignoring you. Most likely the latter. If life had gone back to the way it was 2 years ago, you would’ve pulled his hair or pinched his cheek. But that was then, and this is now, and things between the two of you wouldn’t ever be the way they were before.

You feel itchy. You ignored it as you walk back to your room, but the ache persisted. It felt as if there were little bugs beneath the skin, crawling and mating and birthing and multiplying. Your flesh and bone suddenly felt illuminated by something like an electric shock. You shakily place your bowl on a messy dresser in your room, rubbing your hands together frantically, like a nervous fly. You knew this feeling all too well; you needed to get high. You told Laura you would stop, for her sake, but she wouldn’t notice, would she? You absentmindedly grab at your hair and scratch at your belly, no, you couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t. But you needed to take the edge off, at the very least. You grab your backpack, a brown sweater, and your beat-up converse, not bothering to finish your cereal. You leave your room and enter the living room, the whole house suddenly alight with noise. Laura is holding the youngest sibling, baby Mary, while juggling with dressing Violet, meanwhile Michael is handling Savannah and Zack. Your mother disappeared, your father now in her place, and Benny is left to frantically dress himself. You pull your phone from your backpack, an outdated and beat up little thing, checking the time, 6:40 am. Normal kids who didn’t live out in the middle of nowhere would be getting up now. The walk to the bus stop took almost 20 minutes, 10 on a good day, meanwhile Laura got to leave in your father’s car.

“Why don’t drive all of us to the bus stop?” Michael had asked once, years ago.

“Nah, I’m not doing all that! Waste of time!” Your father dismissed, the same response he would give for years to come.

You’re out the door before anyone could notice you, and the thought of rolling one up now doesn’t fail to fill your mind. You pull your arms through your backpack straps, backwards, the bag hanging off your chest. You put the hoodie of your sweater over your head, not fully wearing it, the pressing humidity (and rising heat within your body) making it too stuffy to adorn. If Laura or Benny (or Michael, if he still talked to you) were out here, they would’ve said you look stupid. You had stopped worrying about how you look years ago, a premature ego death, before you even had an ego. You gripped the sides of the bag, to distract yourself from the overwhelming desire for a hit. In the distance, you could hear the gaggle of children finally leaving the house. Distant giggles, obnoxious laughter, muffled words of conversation and “I love you”. And there you were, meters away and alone. With you gone, it almost seemed like a happy family. You hear a car come up behind you, and a loud honk pulls you out of your thoughts. You jump, your heart almost stopping, too edgy from the withdrawal. You look at the offending vehicle and spot your father and Laura waving and laughing. You can’t discern whether you feel humiliated, gawked at like a clown, or loved, noticed. That fades, and then the only thing you feel is that deep, distant itch, begging to be scratched.

Violet is running up to you, followed in tow by Zack then Savannah.

“Why you so emo.” Violet pokes at your side.

You force an offended scoff, “Shut up, ugly!” You pitch your voice in a whiny tone. The poke feels like a stab, and suddenly you’re sweating. Shit.

“[  ], can you carry me? Michael doesn’t wanna carry me!” Savannah pulls at the sweater hanging from your head.

“You’re too big. You’re a big kid, right? You sound like a baby.” Your head feels dizzy, the world begins to sway.

Savannah continues to whine. Zack pipes up now, “After school, can you take me to the skate park? Please please please please…” He continues, his little fists pulled into a prayer position.

“I dunno, we’ll see.” There’s a pounding in your head, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

“Wait, [  ], I wanna go too!” Benny suddenly appears as he chimes in, giving up his too cool to engage act.

“We’ll see.” Your body is buzzing, you feel wired. You don’t even notice that you had begun scratching at your arms, and although it wasn’t violent by any means, it certainly wasn’t gentle either.

“Why was Josie crying last night?” Savannah.

“How did you get up so early, LOL.” Violet.

“Did you even go to sleep? You look sleepy,” Savannah.

“My legs hurt, I’m tired…” Zack.

“[  ], can we skip and go to the gas station instead?” Benny.

“Benny! That’s bad!” Savannah.

“Yeah, mommy’s gonna spank us!” Violet.

“Mom’s gonna spank you.” Benny.

“Why would she spank me, stupid?” Violet.

“For being so ugly, ugly!” Benny.

“Nuh uh! [  ]! Mommy’s not gonna spank me, right?” Violet.

Yeah, you’re never having kids. You couldn’t even itch your arms anymore, as there were children hanging off each one, begging for your attention. Well, you don’t blame them, the only time they ever see you is early in the morning and late at night. Perhaps, to them, you were something special, the way a two headed rat may be special. You’re clenching your teeth now and struggling to walk straight. When you’re like this, it’s difficult to stay calm; there have been too many times where you have lashed out, saying and doing vile things. You held onto whatever sanity you had left, to stop yourself from doing something you would regret. You wondered if Michael could tell; was he just watching, waiting for you to slip up so he could call you a stupid piece of shit again? Or was he just a fucking idiot?

“[  ]?” Zack spoke up, almost tripping you as he got into your space.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you still in school? I thought you had to go to college already?”

Oh god, the dreaded question.

“Guys, come here.” Michael finally demanded, pulling the children’s attention away from you. You let out a sigh, immediately bringing your nails to your arms once again. You continued to walk quickly at your own pace, tuning out the world around you.

You look up at the sky, it’s a gloomy grey, but the wind was warm. The moist air clings to your skin, making you feel dirtied. Mosquitos have already begun their biting, leaving red spots along the exposed expansions of your arms and legs. You look out at the fields, vast and almost endless, save for the thick tree line in the distance. You liked the fields, although ugly and littered with red necks, only because of the childhood memories you had made here. You hadn’t been out in that distant wood until you turned 16, begging your father to take you hunting. You had killed a rabbit out there, and you cried, and now the ghosts of the dead cute little animals seemed to haunt that area. Dramatic. You look down at your feet, you had been walking along a gravel path, lined with wire fences meant for cows. Bugs scattered the area, a grasshopper jumped past your feet, went down the trail, and landed on Savannah. You only know it landed on Savannah because of the shrill scream that followed. You jump, again, at the sound.

<3

The grasshopper sits calmly in your palm, Zack and Violet leaning over you as they observe the creature. Michael and Savannah are sitting on an old concrete bench, having reached the bus stop, the older boy wiping at the girl’s tears. You’re holding the pest in your left hand, meanwhile your right grips the left wrist, tight as to control the shaking.

“Can I hold it?” Zack asks, polite.

“Wait, no, me first!” Violet butts in.

“No, me! Back off, stupid!” Zack snaps, polite façade gone in an instant.

You still feel twitchy, though now you’ve gotten better at ignoring it. The three of you are crouched down, careful not to ruin your clothing with the damp grass. You knew that they knew what was going on, but you and the children all decided to collectively ignore the elephant in the room, apparently. They had asked questions in the past, only to be met with being shut down or lashed at, and so they now knew better. Benny is standing over Zack, half disgusted, half fearful, and totally trying to play it cool.

“Ugh, just kill it!” He sneers.

“I’m not gonna kill it, you little psycho.” You observe the creature for a little while longer, not placing it in either child’s hand.

“It’s just a bug! What is it gonna do, huh?” Benny talks down to you, totally too cool. He reminds you of how Michael had once been, and you begin to rub your wrist.

You stand, rather suddenly. Zack and Violet whine, a chorus of small pleas break out, and Benny takes a step back, hiding his terror of the creature. A beat passes, the bus begins to approach from the distance.

“Bus is here.” You nod toward the vehicle and the children turn around. Benny is trudging away from the scene when you grab the back of his school uniform, shoving the bug inside. He lets out a scream, and the kids burst into laughter. There had been a small congregation of students and parents standing around as well, all turning to witness the commotion. Benny is cursing you out while he rips off his backpack and sweater, batting at his back. You cackle, wicked and evil, as the boy panics.

“Ugh, you fucking bitch!” Benny snaps as the grasshopper finally escapes.

“Language!” You retaliate, the laughter making it difficult to get the word out.

“I’m telling mommy!” Violet yells at Benny through her giggles as she runs off to the bus, hand in hand with Savannah.

“Benny, hurry! Before we lock you out!” Zack teases and cackles, your little clone.

Savannah is still rubbing at her reddened eyes, “You guys are so mean!”

Benny flees the scene, not before flipping you the finger, and hops on the bus.

The bus leaves you and Michael there, and you hold your stomach as you try to catch your breath. Once your laughter finally dies, you find yourself standing in silence. Michael is still ignoring you, and the other highschoolers waiting by the curb are in their own little worlds. You stare at the back of Michael’s head, and you feel alone once more. You sit down in the wet grass, not caring about the stains, and scratch, twitch, and jitter in silence.

<3

You hurry to the back of the bus, Michael in the front. Even on the bus, he tries to stay as far from you as possible. The front is quiet, nerds and losers, but the back is rowdy, losers in denial. You sit next to a girl, a skinny little thing. She’s engulfed in large hoodie and sweatpants, light grey with the school’s name plastered in red. You plop down next to her and pull off your hoodie, pulling it over your front like a blanket.

“Who’s the father?” The girl exclaims, bringing her hands to her face in fake shock.

You glance down at your backpack, still hanging off your front, “Shut the fuck up.” You reply, though with no real bite.

She is Mariah Smith, local pothead and one of your few friends. You aren’t the best of buddies, she had been a friend of a friend, but you were beginning to grow on her. She has dark skin, a rarity in this side of town, and wore short braids. She has a nose ring, done at home by one of your other friends, and had a girlfriend in the city. You two had met in pre-calculus the year before, when she was a junior and you were a senior. Then you failed, obviously, and now you two are in the same grade. You had a feeling she was trying too hard to seem cool because you were older? The thought of being respected, although slightly, filled you with both pride and dread. Pride, because someone thought you were cool. Dread, because you knew you were destined to disappoint. You almost wanted to turn to her and warn her not to get her hopes up.

“Did you see Kay?” You inquire. You had begun to dig your nails into your thighs, the overwhelming sensations of the bus would get to you if you couldn’t distract yourself.

“Yeah, fucking long ass drive, though. But her mom let me spend the night,” Mariah smirks, “very much worth it.”  A beat passes before you force out a small laugh, forgetting you had to respond. Mariah goes on to tell you the story of her eventful weekend, trying to look cool despite her giddiness. “…And then we went downtown, and holy shit [  ], we…”

You can’t help but wonder at the feeling, being loved like that. Sure, you’ve had boyfriends… in the 8th grade. That last “relationship” you had was with some new kid in marching band when you were 13, and that never moved past awkwardly standing near each other. But, as far you knew, no sane male has attempted to even look at you since then. There was a time when this would eat you up from the inside out, and there was a time when you were happy to be finally left alone. Now, you feel as if you are better off not burdening your existence upon someone for longer than necessary, even if that pang of longing still runs within you. Maybe just once, with a shitty guy whose heart you wouldn’t mind breaking once his body has done its job… But what if he wants to kill you? Men are always killing their lovers after being tossed to the side, you’ve seen it. You wonder for a moment… you’ve dealt with worse at this point, there’s no situation you couldn’t snake your way out of. How much worse could it really get?

You don’t even know the half of it.

Suddenly, you realize Mariah is silent, you are silent. “[  ]?”

“Yeah?”

“You, uh, okay?”

“Huh? What? Never better!” You shake your head and rub your eyes, “Pulled an all-nighter s’all.” Among other things.

Mariah nods, not seeming convinced but not wanting to dig any further. An awkward silence falls over the two of you for a moment. You’re biting your lips, tearing off the dead skin. Mariah eventually moves her attention to other kids on the bus, making lighthearted and shallow conversation with the boys sitting in front of you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with a wave of sick. Your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re breathing hard, and your leg is jittering.

“Fucking shit, [  ]…” She wasn’t angry, but she disguised her worry with frustration. “Are you good? What the hell is going on?”

You shake your head, slowly, always quick to give in.

“You sick?”

You shrug, kinda.

“What, is this fucking morning sickness or some shit?” She chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a huff through your nose, then shake your head no.

“Flu?”

No.

“Uh… cold?”

No.

“… Cramps?”

No!

There’s silence for a moment. “Did you, uh, relapse?” There is something strange and awkward in her voice. The tone you use when you get dumped with the burdens of a (near) stranger.

No, and she lets out a small sigh.

“Oh… is it, like, withdrawals?” She whispers, too ashamed on your behalf to risk being overheard. You nod. You’re terrible at keeping secrets. Mariah is different from the rest of your friends; unwavering cool with an underlying softness, and little experience with anything harder than a “special brownie”. She’s more innocent than she seems, more innocent than a creature like you. Mariah doesn’t know what else to say, so she doesn’t say anything.

<3

You were clenching your jaw as you got off the bus, leaving Mariah behind. She calls after you, but it’s no use. She doesn’t follow or chase, and you disappear into the crowd.

You lock yourself in the stall and lean over the toilet. You’re leaning a hand on the eroding brick wall and bring the other to your thigh. You open your mouth, and the vomit just slides out, leaking like a faucet. It had come up somewhere along the bus ride, but you weren’t about to just start puking all over yourself. You had swallowed as much as you could, but now you could feel it coming back up. You drop to your knees, probably bruising against the dirty tiles, and hunch over the toilet bowl. Your mouth suddenly tastes like milk and cereal again, and you look down at the rainbow mass in the toilet. At some point during your little puke sesh, the empty restroom became alight with noise. A giggling and gossiping cancerous mass infect the dingy room, only quieting when you begin to gag and puke up some more of your breakfast. Keeping quiet is no use, and you know the bitches outside the door can hear you now. Someone gasps and another giggles, soft mutters of holy shit and what the fuck fill the empty spaces between each gag and cough. When you were done, you stayed there, silent, for a moment, until someone began banging on the door.

“[  ]? That you in there? You okay?” Jessie’s hick accent is so thick, her stupid words so slurred, it’s difficult to discern what she’s saying.

“How did you…” You slur, some bile still coating your mouth.

“We can see your ratty little backpack.” A squeaky voice whines, making you cringe and bring your hands to your head.

“Maybe she’s like anorexic now.” Mutters a friend.

“Or pregnant!” A shrill voice squeals.

“Oh, hell no!” another voice gagged, and the group breaks into laughter.

“Not… pregnant…” You reply, what is with you and pregnancy today? Was that a sign? Please, God above, don’t let it be.

“Get out of there, fat ass, puking isn’t gonna make you prettier.” Jessie bangs on the door. Their words shouldn’t hurt, by now you’ve been hurt worse, but they still haven’t lost their bite. You feel so utterly small and insignificant in that restroom stall. It’s not as if you aren’t aware of how unimportant and infantile their words are, but that doesn’t stop them from sinking under the skin like venom. You aren’t sure when things became this way. Jessie had been your friend once, as children, but things took a dramatic shift in middle school. Her parents are hardcore conservatives, lived in the “nicer” side of town, your dad used to work for them, and you go against all their values. Now which one was it? Is it because you’re poor? Because your dad quit? Because you aren’t cousin-fucking hick? Hell, Jessie could be in love with you for all you know.

“Are you doing this because of some,” Your mouth started running before you could stop it, like vomit you couldn’t swallow, “like, weird sadomasochistic lesbian… fetish… thing?” The words were pushed out of you with each heavy breath. There was a mix of laughter, surprise, and disgust behind the door. You rested your head on your palm, holding your skull to dull the throbbing, but it was no use.

“Ew! I’m not a nasty fucking dyke, unlike you! You fucking… dyke!” The girl screeches.

You reach around for your backpack, thrown off in your haze. You rummage around, cigarettes, weed, something, anything. “It’s okay if you are…” You mutter to yourself, bringing a cig to your chapped, dirtied lips.

There is more screaming and banging, and Jessie had even gotten down on the floor to crawl under when a teacher barged in.

You were all sent to the office, luckily you were able to hide your cigs in time, though. They question you lightly, send you to the nurse, and she sends you to class. No true effort is put into your wellbeing. Jessie and her friends are given a stern talking to, lunch detention, and are sent back to class. No justice served, like the movies, just simply moving on to class. Utterly anti-climactic.

A counselor walked you to class, so you couldn’t skip. You walk in late to pre-calculus with Mr. Davis, being met with giggles and snarky remarks by your peers, which you try to ignore. You scurry to your desk in the back corner of the class, pulling your hoodie over your head to escape the prying eyes. But it’s all in vain.

“Alrighty, students!” Mr. Davis’ voice is booming. You could puke, again. “My apologies, Miss Jones, but I need to have a very important talk with the class.”

You hid your face in your arms, as the classroom quietly erupted into stifled laughter at your expense. Your brain was spinning, and your face was hot with humiliation. The only thing you could do was lull yourself into a dreamless sleep.

<3

The sound of the bell pulled you from your nap, the sound knocking through your skull as if it to crack the bone. You stand so quickly you almost knock your desk over, haphazardly pulling on your sweater. You zip it up to the collar, feeling exposed, and clumsily throwing your backpack over your shoulders. You speed out of the room, sweet escape. You make a B-line for the other end of the school. Through the commotion of rushing waves of students, you are able to slip out of the building and towards the football field.

The sun has risen on the dewy landscape, beaming down on you with bright hot rays. The wind chills, but the sun burns. You keep your hoodie on anyways, unable to help the bubbling insecurity within your veins. You hide away under the bleachers, practically tearing your backpack apart as you search. And, finally, you bring that little cancer stick to your lips, and inhale that nicotine infested cloud, feeling your body become warmed by the smoke. It’s not enough, obviously, it’s just a fucking cigarette. What you really needed was leagues harder than this. But you’ve quit, cold turkey or whatever they say. You’re running on pure love and spite… well, mostly spite. You were gonna prove to your stupid parents and stupid brothers and sisters, stupid Jessie and all her stupid friends, your stupid teachers, your stupid classmates, your stupid counselors, everyone you aren’t a pathetic fucking loser. Despite what other might say about you, you had a lust for life and a childishly ambitious mind. Sure, you had ruined your life two years ago, witnessed and committed many sins before you were old enough to even go to the bathroom without permission, but your life wasn’t over… was it?

You pull out your phone, you needed to call someone. You thought of the dealers on campus; Mariah, who only sold weed, and one Jack Petrović, a tall, creepy guy and the one of the other “super seniors”, besides you. Jack dealt with the heavier side of the scale, and, frankly, had some pretty shit product. You stare at the contacts in your phone; Mariah! Smith:) And Jack #6. You don’t know how long you sit there just staring, until you realize you’ve already smoked your whole cig. You groan and grab your crappy little black backpack again. It’s old and falling apart, you’ve used the same one since the 5th grade now. It’s then you notice the ringing in your ears. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, that metallic shrill is a familiar guest. However, the squealing in your skull is persistent, and only grows louder. The sound becomes so intense, you’re grabbing at your skull and pulling your head between your knees. Is this it? Is this how you die? After smoking a fucking cigarette? Eh, you had expected a worse death, but that didn’t mean you didn’t wish for a righteous one! You wanted something gentle, surrounded by your siblings and their children (like hell you’d have your own), if not, you wanted to go out with a bang, something to be talked about for years to come. But no, you were going to die with your cigarettes in your high school football field, probably to be found by a couple trying to fuck or your other junkie friends looking to get a hit before 3rd period, how ironic.

You’re squeezing your eyes shut, bracing for impact. Then it’s over. The ringing, that is. You’re not dead, though you think you are for a second. You looked up at the bleachers, “You fucking kidding me?” You hiss to yourself, “God, I really am in hell…”

“You… You could say that again!” A voice chirps up behind you.

#toby rogers x reader

[melodyfsoul1]

LOKI S2 FINALE GLORIOUS PURPOSE

Just spent over an hour crying over the Loki S2 Finale, and still havent recovered, but here I go anyway with my Reaction/ Review

*Loki S2 E6 Spoilers ahead*

Okay so... before watching the episode I wrote down a couple things that I did NOT want to happen/ but knowing myself, and my luck with my characters, figured that was exactly what would happen....

and turns out... I was correct....

Back in Infinty War I feared/ predicted that Loki was gonna die in the first 10 min in a stupid way where he wouldnt be able to show off his powers... and we all know how that turned out...

For this season finale, all I hoped was that Loki, for once wouldnt play the self sacrifical lamb, and find a way where he didnt have to lose Mobius and his new found friends, where he would be not alone...

So.... yeah.... about that....

Now to the Review/ Reaction:

God I was so scared

"Glorious Purpose"

The title alone had me tearing up.... we really came full circle back to S1 E1 and the fact that they started the recap with 2012 Loki too...

1 min 30 in and I'm already pausing, THE INTRO IS BACKWARDS, thar was so cool

So we all knew Loki would have to go back and try to safe everyone

BUT MARVEL DIDNT HAVE TO SHOW US TIMELY DYING OVER AND OVER AGAIN (and in so many angles too....)

Then Loki trying to learn everything OB knows to be prepared to help, but it would take time, makes sense

"CENTURIES LATER"

WHAT?! They really did that, good thing Loki has that long Life span...

The fact that all the characters realizes sth was off with Loki but MOBIUS is the one to stop and talks to him, and Loki telling him to trust him.... my heart

OH MY GOD ITS WORKING?! And Timely survived too? Did not expect that

I have never seen Loki this relieved/ happy but at the same time sad and exhausted before...

But of course its never that "easy"

No matter what, the infinite amount of branches will always detroy the loom, so the moment a timeline branched everything was doomed from he start... Ah yes Marvel and their existential dread...

Loki going back to before Sylvie killed He Who Remains, trying to convince her not to kill him.... and of course she says he has to kill her if he wants to stop her...

God Loki's Emotional Damage....

Of course Loki cant

HWR COULD HAVE STOPPED TIME THAT THE WHOLE TIME!??!! The fact that he figured Loki has gone through this whole scene before and still just watched

He knows about time slipping...

He paved he road

He planned this

Him and Loki had this conversations before

"We die with the dying, we are born with the dead"

That is such a sick quote :0

Its basically Loki vs HWR forever, and Loki knows he will always lose... but still wants to try... kudos to his determination

And of course Loki cant bring himself to trade lives... not Sylvie's, not his friends and not the multiverses...

Loki goes back to the first time he talked to Mobius...NOOOOO not the Throne talk, why does this feel like a final good bye talk.... I HATE IT

Though S1 E1 Mobius having a chat with S2 E6 Loki is such an interesting concept

He wants to find out how they chose who lives and dies... ("Who lives, who dies, who tells your story" huh? Sorry but I had to make that Hamilton reference XD)

"You're not gonna find comfort in the TVA" - Mobius to Loki

BUT HE DID, LOKI DID FIND COMFORT, IN YOU MOBIUS, Im gonna cry ... the TVA was the first place where Loki could just be himself and he found friends there too

Also Mobius might be the only comfort character who actually gives comfort (and isnt just an angsty mess who hasnt had a happy day ever)

Mobius telling the story of a hunter who couldnt kill a kid, which caused more death, loosing sight of the bigger picture

So he is talking about himself right? And of course Renslayer was the Partner

Mobius telling Loki they have to chose a burden and live with it... that it leaves scars.

Theres this sinking feeling again

And the scene SPGAHETTIFIES?! I SWEAR TO GOD MARVEL, NOT AGAIN, STOP GIVING US FANS PTSD THROUGH VISUAL EFFECTS

I dont know what to think of Loki & Sylvie's final talk.... Loki has an idea?

Oh NoNONONONONONO

I FREAKING KNEW HE WAS GONNA GO THE SELF SACRFICE ROUTE BACK FROM EP 1 AND I FIGURED HE WOULD TAKE TIMELY'S PLACE IN EP 5 BUT THIS?!

Cant he ever be happy?! Is there any Loki, in any universe who actually gets to be happy?!

The fact that Mobius was the first to notice and that him and Sylvie immediately followed Loki, tried to talk him out of it

Loki looking back, saying he finally knows what he wants

MY HEART

LOKI WALKING THROUGH SPACE WITHSTANDING THE RADIATION JUST LIKE THOR WITHSTOOD THE DYING STAR IN INFINITY WAR, THE PARALLELS

THE NEW OUTFIT, THE CAPE, HIS HORNED HELMET, OH MY GOD

It looks like an End of Time Aesthetic Version of his Ragnarok Outfit wih the Cracked Kintsugi helmet

Ngl at first I had no idea if he was using his powers to manually destroy, change or preserve the branches.... or weave them together

Oh and to be clear I was crying during like the whole last 20 min of the episode because that was just too many emotions at once

Also can we talk about how freaking cool looking the shots of Loki with the new Helmet and the branches being his cape, were?!

The throne... Oh god the remains of HWR throne...

LOKI'S GLORIOUS PURPOSE WAS TAKING ON THE BURDEN OF THE THRONE HE NEVER WANTED

*starts violently sobbing*

Poetic, Ironic and Heartbreaking, all at the same time

Like, is it extremely cool to see him use his powers to his full potential? Yes definitely.

Were the cinematics beautiful? Yes of course, it was gorgeous, tho the moment I realized he was making Yggdrasil, I started bawling my eyes out, because "You go Loki, show us what you can do"

But I also felt my heart break because Loki is now at the end if time, chose to have to watch over & protect the multiverse, all alone, forever.... (can he leave that place?)

Like this is the very same Loki, who just, 1 episode ago, admitted that he is terrified of being alone, who just wants to be with his friends. L1130 is a Loki who was actually happy and had friends, a place where he felt safe because he could be himself. And he gave EVERYTHING up to give EVERYONE ELSE a chance at life, a life he might not be able to take part in... he can watch, but we dont know if he can interact with them....

I literally talked about that in my reaction/ review from last episode. Sylvie & Loki are both selfish, which is ironically a very human trait (them being gods and all), but unlike Sylvie, Loki would actually give up everything to safe others, which is exactly what he did.

And I know Comic Loki, God of Stories, wrote himself out if the Narrative as well, out of the Story, to look behind the curtain, have a talk with the beings behind everything, but that Loki also had Verity, he had a friend outside of everything, he had someome to talk to, a friend. Verity is one of my fav characters and I would have loved to see her Comic Version too in the MCU, but I saw B-15's Name was revealed to be Verity Willis, so thats is cool Easter Egg :D

Back to Loki, I honestly cant tell which Loki has it the worst... I always thought the main Loki dying to Thanos had it the worst, but he sth akin to a life and he got the chance to mend his relationship with Thor before he died his heroes' death...

Now L1130, in the worst case, is damned to spent eternity alone, the very thing he is scared of, being without his friends, forced to watch from afar as they live life without him, when all he wanted was to be with them... that is unless he can just leave the place whenever he wants to (if the branches allow it I guess?) But if it turns out that he cant leave that place/ or interact with anyone, without everything going down immediately, then I would argue that this Loki's life is worse than the other's death... and I cant believe Im describing Infinity War Loki's Death as a mercy...

Back to the ep...

AFTER?! Right theres an after

The TVA is still intact, with a new leader ship and everyone working together, B-15, OB, Casey and even Ms Minutes is helping?

Mobius looks so sad doing his job though...

Hes gonna LEAVE?! He wants to experience his own life on the timeline, huh... Loki did promise that to Don... and M is going for it, thats sweet actually

Renslayer got sent to the end of time, Alioth waiting for her, well then

Mobius seeing what his life used to be is so sweet, likes how perfectly imperfect is it

Sylvie visits too?

"Its weird Loki's not around" she says and I start bawling my eyes out again, now thats just salting the wound.... at least they remember him

NOOOOO THE SHOT OF LOKI IN HIS THRONE

He is smiling, but he's crying too

Is there ANY Marvel Movie, or Show where Loki doesnt cry?!?! My freaking heart...

Look I know this ending makes rational sense.... and it was defintely epic, and we finally got Loki at his full potential, and yes, Loki being finally recongnized as one of the most powerful MCU characters is cool.

But personally, on an emotional level, that ending is somewhere between bittersweet and absolutely heart breakingly dreadful, because Loki didnt want this, he didnt want the throne, he only did this to save his friends, he gave up his own happiness and I hate it... I know he is happier knowing his friends have a chance at life and that he chose this, but there wasnt much of an choice with HWR....

I just hope that Loki learning to control time means he can at least visit his friend, pop in from time to time, because if him leaving the throne/ the branches means everything could come crashing down, then thats just sad...

And what does that mean for the teased Loki & Thor Reunion?! WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT?! We didnt even get an end credit scene?!

Anyways, I'm gonna rewatch the season the next couple days and go through some theories and head canons and see whether that will change my opinion on the ending, but we'll see.

#Loki #mcu loki #comic loki #marvel loki #loki god of stories #loki series #loki season one #loki season 2 #loki season finale #loki s2 ep6 #glorious purpose #loki spoilers #loki finale #loki2x06 spoilers #screaming crying throwing up #too many emotions #i am bawling #i have not recovered #That finale was so cool but also bittersweet #I dont know what to think #He found his glorious purpose #but at what cost #mobius #sylvie #i am not okay #overwhelmed #hyped #And brainrotting #i just want loki to be happy #i miss loki

[kirchefuchs]

I am in my uniform as I am typing this in my notes but like

Fear.

It's a common emotion triggered by a handful of situations. Gun pointed at you? Fear. The existential dread of knowing that you're about to die at any second? Fear. Just barely escaping the tragic fate of falling down the stairs? Fear. Hearing your mother angrily yell out your full government name in the middle of the night? Fear.

And that got me thinking:

Sure, love is a fantastical emotion, and yes, love is amazing when it comes to sentience and all.. but fear?

Fear is what keeps our minds on the edge of a breakdown. Fear is one of the emotions that can drastically change your heartbeat in a matter of seconds. Fear keeps you stuck in a spiral of acceptance and reluctance — but only when you're sentient enough to feel the effects.

In regards to my previous asks.. what if Pollux gained sentience through fear?

Because an AI like him shouldn't be afraid outside of what he was coded to be scared of. Fear — a natural response — is treated as a scripted entity for The Narrator's sake.

I just got that thought, y'know? What scenario could scare The Narrator so bad that it pulls the Pollux we all know outside of his scripted shell? What situation could force a string of panic out of those lines of code? What can be done to make him fear?

And then, I had a thought.

I remember that condescending Timekeeper screenshot you posted with an ask regarding the oneshot I was making

soooooooooo I'll be using that as reference (if you don't mind) regarding the scenario in which Pollux is naturally terrified. I'll think of a storyline first tho >:]

Toodles :]

— 🅰️non || 05/31/2023

TK? Giving Narry an existential crisis? More likely than you tthink!

Anyways, something like this almost? (Same fic im working on as the TK line you mentioned)

I don't think Narry is necessarily scared of TK per say, but TK definitely has a way of pointing out things about him that he is not ready to process at the moment. And so of course he goes into fight or flight mode about it. Deny everything and run. He'd rather keep everything the same than confront his own emotions. Poor guy.

And now that I think about it, in the fic I'm writing, it is kinda fear in a way that brings Pollux back. Yes it's tied to his affections for Stanley, but he is just so scared about losing his grip on the world around him. So when he's lost his grip on is sense of reality he clings to his world, Stanley, for dear life. The whole idea of it terrifies him, but it's all he can do.

All in all, your idea there is very on brand for him.

*Slaps roof of Luxie* This bad boy can fit so much fear in him!

#the stanley parable #tspud #tsp #ask #tsp narrator #tspud narrator #🅰️non #tspud stanley #tsp stanley #tsp timekeeper #tspud timekeeper #tsp settings person #tspud settings person #tsp 432 #tspud 432 #employee 432 #kirche rambles #fanfic

[dragoneyes618]

We thought that we had progressed decisively as a society, that we had vanquished racism and religious discrimination, that the institutions of our liberal state would prevent a minority from facing persecution, and that our ruling class would never allow any subset of the population to be openly hated and othered again.  How wrong we were. That anti-Semitism, the oldest of hatreds, is back on the streets and screens of Britain, is terrifying enough; but the fact that this explosion of prejudice is being treated in such a cavalier fashion by the authorities and the mainstream broadcast media – and in some cases is even being rationalised and normalised – is a catastrophic development that casts doubt about Britain’s very future.  This is the worst moment for Britain’s Jews since the pogroms that disgraced Leeds, Liverpool and Manchester in the summer of 1947. The double-standards, the never ending “pro-Palestine” marches that are inevitably marred by egregious, open, anti-Semitism and evil slogans, the bullying, the victim blaming, the spreading of fake news, the wilful, blatant lies and denialism of Hamas’s atrocities, the obsessive interest in, and delegitimisation, of Israel, a state that accounts for just 0.25 per cent of the Middle East’s landmass, is its only multi-religious democracy and which is fighting for survival against neighbours that reject its very existence, stink of a replay of the 1930s.  The return of anti-Semitism is not just an existential threat to Britain’s tiny, 292,000-strong Jewish community, but a damning indictment of a Britain that is regressing into darkness. As Lord Sacks put it in 2016, “the hate that begins with Jews never ends with Jews … the appearance of anti-Semitism in a culture is the first symptom of a disease, the early warning sign of collective breakdown.”  Already a non-Jewish MP has resigned out of fear for his own safety. Traditional British democratic norms are being upended by far-Left and Islamist extremists. Cranks, conspiracy theorists and racists appear to have entered mainstream politics in significant numbers, and many seem attracted by the Labour Party.  Anti-Semites never just target Jews. They are full-service, equal opportunity bigots who oppress and impoverish and destroy all that they touch, and despise freedom and human flourishing. 

- Allister Heath, editor of the London newspaper Daily Telegraph - link with https://newkontinent.org/for-the-first-time-in-my-life-im-now-beginning-to-think-britain-is-finished/

#antisemitism #britain

[agentemo]

i mean of course she forgot i said it or chose to ignore it or thought that because i was drunk i was full of shit but im here im queer and im filled with existential fear and of all of the things she can hate about me this cannot be a hill to even think about climbing my dude

literally trying to find some redeeming quality in this bitch

we will not have a relationship when she moves if this is too much for her

anyway here’s some tasty quotes from A Conversation

my mom: i went to [my godfather’s christmas drag shows lmfao] because i know him. i don’t know those people [that are going to be at the event tomorrow].

me: you do know people! you know me! you went to that because you knew him and now i’m asking you to go to this because you know me.

and also

her: i’d rather go out to lunch somewhere

me: we can do that but who cares what you want? it’s my birthday and this is literally the only thing i want. i can go by myself if you won’t go.

and then she went to church i’m confused

when has she ever gone to church this late is she praying for my soul lmao

#yay haha im having a great time everything is fine #gonna post a meme in a second

[liminalnafaza]

a blurry portrait of Sol

a friend, flatmate, teacher, favorite yogi, older brother figure, loving companion, and human.

i have so much respect and love for you, and i just want to appreciate the fact that i got to know you in this life. and having you by my side during my worst existential times, crying on your shoulders and hearing your words of wisdom and comfort meant the world to me. i'm feeling blessed to have shared my home with you and to have you in my life. you're an inspiration to me and i have learned a lot from you. mainly, how to overcome fear, respect myself, tune into the flow of life, and tell myself that things are okay and to be compassionate towards myself. to appreciate the fact that i am doing tremendous work.

"you're healing an entire generation"

♥️♥️♥️ i miss you so much. and i miss so many other people dear to me. as i sit in my quiet room, next to my labrador stuffed toy, listening to khruangbin, slightly sick, feeling, being overwhelmed, safe, curious, a bit lost, excited, dreamy, nostalgic, heartbroken, motivated. i'm so taken care of and i wish for myself to always embody this awareness. seeing and feeling into the tense energy within my body makes me so sad. i don't wish for anyone to carry stuck energies within them: i want all of us to feel free, both in our mind and body. i want us to release all that is making us feel behind, sick, paralysed, and keeping us from experiencing this life in its full beauty.

radiohead is playing and i can't believe i'm still a lil emo girl. some things never change, and maybe that's okay. deep within me there's still desires to color my hair blue again, to pierce my entire face, live in a squat, start an alt rock band and create art until i die.

what im doing out here i don't quite know. i feel like my higher self does: and that somehow things make sense. patience is key and i gotta practice being more patient. i want to see myself keep up with yoga and meditation, doing work-- real work--- ART. because art is my life.

now i can do so in peace. from tomorrow on, im part of the working society again, for which im grateful for. it means that i can remain in berlin and support myself. its just another fun game that im gonna play.

oh, god. oh, lord. ohhhh...all of these feelings. theyre breeding inside of my body. creating colonies and communities. there's so many of them. so many lost loves i still grieve for. so many friendships i wonder about. people i cant wait to see again outside of my dreams.

[yourbleedingh3art]

Am i in a world of delusion for going to college as an english major

Would picking a specialized major help me find a stable source of income? Is everything equally reliable because of an equal exposure to the randomness of fate and chance? Am I Delusional for Thinking I Can do This? Would I be perfectly happy as an art educator or therapist? What am I going to do for my career? Will I be an English teacher? Would that be the worst thing in the world? Note: All i want and all ive ever wanted is to write. So duh english made sense i loved books and reading and writing. Creative fiction. creative writing. Imagination and such. Will my career be anything other than me, the novelist? Me, the always-working-on-my-next-book? What are some of my actual career goals? Who do i want to meet? Who are my influences and role models? How did acker and marquez get to where they got? Were they even rich? Do i want to be well known? And within what communities: the general public? the niche art and authorial community? my local community? name recognizable to librarians? (this sounds nice) Am I scared to set a goal because the second it's tangibly set if i dont reach it ive failed and im horrified of failure? (Yes) Ahhh we see how procrastination and avoidance works its magic all it needs first is some eye of newt and Human Fear. Simply scared to fail bc ego destruction. And my ego as a person is distinct from my ego as a writer :i am my product as well as my body so my body (physical self) and product (outsidebody material thing but also my Self in terms of being my written Thoughts mental self) have two separate egos. egos Ive mentally separated (am i confident this separation is necessary or actually exists? no). Ego as Me the Body as seen in the mirror and general "personhood" human-to-human interactions Im trying to really eliminate ego (without a full conception of what that means. to me it entails, be present, be less prideful, be more empathetic) but Ego as ME the product im not actually trying to eliminate actively bc trying to eliminate ego put me in a weird position of being an obedient people pleaser in order to be "Nice" (or to attempt this) above all else... it's just not natural for me to behave Doormat-ishly (would argue it's not for anyone) And so this line of choices i was making based on my desire to eliminate ego without fulling understanding what ego means (or having an incorrect understanding of what it means, incorrect in incompleteness) led to a lot of repression of the self and frankly this repression is the result of my existential questioning ... As I sit down in my kitchen today and pick my new junior year of college classes

#blog post

[movisual]

all i want in life,,,,,, is for a girl to sit,,,, on my lap and let me,,,, grab her legs,,,,,,,,, to pull her closer,,,,

#im feeling gay in this chilis tonight #lgbt #saphic #lesbian #gay #bisexual #trans #queer #im here im queer #im full of existential fear

[mxbitters]

future me is gonna absolutely hate me for saying it but i want more nightmares.  shit i can write about.  and NOT one of those goddamn existential dread nightmares i wanna be chased by a fucking eldritch horror i don’t wanna think about death death please just give me scary dreams where i’m being chased by monsters i wanna draw them and write about them metaphorically 

#like damn at least in the monster dreams i feel wanted (even if they want to comPLETELY murder me) as opposed to like #'nothing matters and you and everybody you love are going to die one day' like i don't wanna hear about it??? please??? #i mean i guess in my priorities list getting rid of the occasional existential dread nightmare should be higher than keeping the fun ones #I GUESS. #but i mean even the scary monster ones were just bloodcurdlingly horrifying and brought back some prettty uhhhhhhh yikes trauma so.. #like there's this one i think about a lot where it's like #it's like a backrooms type thing. where i'm being chased by this bloody mary type thing and this weird dnd type slime thing #and they're chasing me from room after room after room until it's basically just door after door and the rooms are more like closets #and finally i end up in like a women's restroom and am like hiding in a stall monsters inc style #and the bloody mary thing shows up and is like at the sink and i can like hear it calling for me and i try and look out and i think it deadn #deadnames* me and says all this stuff that reminds me of certain UHH YIKES relationships and jumps at me and i probably die #like that one was absolutely HORRIFYING but at least it was interesting and i could theoretically write about it #most of my cool dreams actually have someone chasing me or someone actually #that weird fantasy one where i'm like in some fantasy place and go by this castle and this lake but have to keep running bc im being chased #oh that gerard way one i don't even think it was me being chased but the wizard cops were going after him uhh #that one with the table full of shot glasses wasn't really a chasing one but it sure as fuck was tense #in that i had a mom and a baby brother (they were like...............blonde.though. idk who they were) and i had to like hide that person #i mean i guess that could represent a lot of things. particularly my anxieties about being closeted to some people (back then) #and then also my very real fear of being in a relationship with a (most likely) cis man and it not being viewed as mlm which is a big fear o #of* mine #but you get the idea!!! if you're gonna call me out at least do so in a land shrouded in metaphor. use your imagery like english teachers

[hannie-dul-set]

hey so i thought of a fic.

#moderately sized. hopefully 😭😭😭. #i got the premise down and the intro fully fucking written out of fear that i might FORGET it but #i dont have a neo to subject into this yearning >:((( #thinking jeno? i havent written a full fic for him yet hahsjsaa #actually jeno works #maybe this is gonna be jeno #ill write it alongside peach tree when i get TIME but i thinks its gonna finish earlier since its shorter HAHAHAH like. 7k or so. #this was actually gonna be another jaemin fic but the amount of jaemin fics and wips i already have is sickening cmon #but jaemin sounds like a good subject yanno 😭😭🤚🤚🤚 #was inspired by the webtoon parallel city minus the zombies and + existentialism and ofc sappy romance #help who should i write #also ill answer asls some other day im dead tired from the event i co-chaired earlier 😭😭😭. #allex yells

[mostly-vo1d]

teen wolf s1: alphas can control their betas to some extent

teen wolf for the rest of the show: cool. we'll never use or mention it ever again.

#teen wolf #I just read a twilight post and twilight makes me go !!! at existential horror #(read: I need to stay away from video essays of media I've never watched/read) #anyway #I just think it would have been neat to explore the control aspect a bit more #because #in ep 1 and night school it's this really scary thing that makes Scott fear for his/his friends lives #(I can't remember how much of the 2md full moon stuff was bc of who/what) #and after Derek has his im the alpha moment it's never brought up again I don't think #and just #for a show that so heavily deals with (loss of) autonomy/agency it's interesting that the (first?) literal mind control is just an #inconvenience for a couple of episodes #don't get me wrong I don't want derek/Scott to actually Use It #(okay outside of s5 because I love me some mindfuckery s5 feels) #but I wanted it to be Discussed #with maybe Cora/the betas being forced into the alpha pack #or Scott after the hospital roof scene #Liam finding out that's A Thing after already being kidnapped and everything #just #*incoherently upset noise*

[soldier-poet-king]

I hope you're doing well today.

Thank you 💕 I'm uh. tbh. Not doing great? I've basically reached the point of I will simply not think about it and so therefore it doesn't exist. It's not a good solution and I feel like garbage and so anxious all the time. But I'm functional at least? Mildly so? Not lying in bed full of existential agony at all hours?

#anon #i AM still full of existential agony #i just. have grad school work to do #idk #i dont know what i believe or what i should do #thinking about trying to deal with it fills me with such dread and anxiety and makes mr want to *** #im full of fear and its exhausting