#introspectiontime
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"It seems to me more than ever that I am a victim of introspection" ~ Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
#wordhour#spilled thoughts#dark academia#dark acadamia aesthetic#tumblog#tumblrpost#darkacademism#womanwhowrite#woman poet#text personal#sylvia plath#the unabridged journals of sylvia plath#the bell jar#ariel#post moderism#despression#introspectiontime#sadcore#sad and tired#womanhood#confession#mood post#tumblr blog#poets on tumblr#tumblrgirl
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It's crazy how much my art has improved in the last few months since I took up drawing again. I wonder if I'll end up hating this drawing too in four weeks
I have to work on myself since my first reaction is not "wow I really improved I'm so proud" but "eww this old drawing sucks anyone who liked it did it out of pity"
Oh well
#solas dai#dragon age fanart#dragon age inquisition#solas dragon age#solas#solas fan art#solavellan#fen'harel#dragon age solas#introspectiontime
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I think I finally understood why I relate to the main characters in spy family that much: you don't have to be an international spy, an assassin or a telepath to think that no one will love you for who you truly are
#and even i don't try to hide my true self like them i still don't think that someone will ever be able to love all parts of me#and that's also why i ship twiyor so hard - even if i can't have it; they can#spy x family#introspectiontime
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Strange How Things Change
I’ve not attempted to write anything here for literal years, Songbook, fool that I am I found that my inspiration came and went and returned again tenfold living through all that I have in recent years.
It bears repeating that as I look through the last few pages I offered up to the powers that be for perusal I do not even recognize myself. I know logically I am the one who’s written the words but I see a Bard who’s confidence was as fragile as it proved to be, who’s trust was placed so often in the hands of those who would suit the ideals I made of men and maidens but not who they actaully were.
I miss the casual friends, the ones that I simply played music for, those who I taught around the Fountain, the tastes of new lips against my own and the songs that awoke in my heart when they took time to spend with me...
What I’d write here today, is the truth of things I’ve learned since I last penned my thoughts on these archives... Chief among them, I am not cut out to love only one person, but that does not mean I did not have a half of me I was seeking... missing.
I look at my old self tucked between the lines and hopes I scribbled longingly in the blank spaces, I was looking for something, needing someone, or anyone to hear that I was singing out into the void and just wishing I would hear someone singing back...
I thought about the reason I grew roses, not just for mother, not just for their beauty and resilience despite their apparent delicacy, but because once when I was a boy with a Lute I’d rebuilt from discarded pieces and made into Hypernia, I was given a gift... one that I never truly could repay. My dark mirror with bloodied hands and sallow features, hungry, hurting, but still in awe of Music. Of a Tiny voice that was not just my own but theirs as well.
A Tiny Voice that was for those things that were over looked and tucked between the sentences and ramblings residing in the things I didn’t say... and should have said.
He heard it... and he Answered I just didn’t know how close he was.
To those I loved in all these pages, there was no point then or now that I did not love you, I felt these things, I felt them like the most meaningful fuel to my kindled heart I had ever known, you taught me that there was more, and for that I will be ever grateful even if you despise me now... even if you’ve forgotten me now...
But now as I write and feel music in my fingertips, song within my soul, I know it is because my compositions are not ones I can name, or water down into their sheet or score, what I have in my life now... my Children, My mate, and all those who have given us the chance to touch their lives as they’ve touched ours... You are all a part of the music that’s come back to me and now fills my life with laughter, joy, and sorrow, and shared pain, but with an unabashed eternal love that is ever changing as the world itself.
So when I return to these pages, I hope that the me from the future sees that I have known what love is, truly, unabashedly, and eternally what it is... and it’s that I will always find more within my Kintsugi Heart.
-Dedicated to my Midnight, and the muses we find room for.
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The universe is watching you. And your fate is bigger than you thought.
«Hero» is what the people calls him when he walk around saying hello.
«Reckless» his opponents spits behind his back when they think he is far enough.
«Human» the mirror whispers back under the white artificial light.
He is the moment, the truth; the world loves him, and then they hates him. He walks around with grace, never looking behind; always keep going.
He stands above them all and they say that that is the way it always should be. But they also pities him, «he has no one» they says again; and he wants to scream because it is not his fault.
He is the brightest of them all, the most talented. The one who is defying reality, making and breaking and rewriting records; history. But everything is temporary and he knows, he understands that someday all will end; they don’t.
He stands and the rest of the world have to look at him, there is no other way. He stands and is always at the top until one it is not. He doesn’t care, but they does.
Uneasy is the head that wears the crown.
An it is a heavy one.
«Arrogant» that’s a new word, an he wears it the same way he wears the crown; and he owns it the same way he owns the other ones; with pride.
And in the loneliness of a room, where the only light comes from an old street lamp, he crumbles. His knees are to weak, to worn put by the time and the pain; his shoulders hurts because the world weight to much and he is supporting it all alone.
He cries; and the tears left behind a hot trail. His eyes are dry and his throat keeps all the thing he wants to say. There is a silent scream and nobody see.
Fingertips that are able to touch the ground and suddenly the world does not seems to much. For a moment everything is right, everything is going to be solved. Until the clock starts ticking again and his shoulders feels the weight again.
He stands ignoring the pain, he feels more cracks appearing and doesn’t care. The sun is rising and he needs to go back; a smile took over his face; but the light never reach his eyes.
Losing stings; burns. It is not a feeling he is familiar with; at least not the first time that happens. He hates it, because then, they look at him smugly.
And then he wins, just to erase the look; just to prove himself he still have it. «Have what?» the voice in his head asks, but there is no answer.
«A shooting star» the universe claims and makes him adopt the title with love and sadness mixed.
He is bright, he shines. The world is amazed by the very sight of him.
He conducts himself with his heart -he always had wear it in his sleeve-, his is true to his feelings. Then he learns how to hide them, how to be what they want.
He is a shooting star and he let the name sinks into his soul one afternoon when the sky is orange and the night slowly comes to cover everything. He knows deep down that his time is ephemeral, that he ir running out of it. It’s a weird sensation in his bones, he knows and he is not afraid.
He has never been.
The world is moving faster than he ever imagine, and he tries -inevitably- to follow. He tries and succeed; he is at the top, he is celebrating; he is alive. He is.
And then he is not.
He loses and still hurts, and happens again and again. And he pushes himself until there is nothing more.
Until he is not anymore.
It all comes into the end in a second. When there is and then suddenly not anymore; he feels time slowing down, and he prays. To who? Nobody knows; not even him. He closes his eyes and the world goes into blank; the only noise he can hear? The metal of the crown when it touches the ground.
He wonder for a moment, who is going to pick it? And the answer is so obvious that he chuckles because he knows. And he choose to believe that he is going to be ready, that the head that is going to wear the crown it’s steady enough.
The time resumes it’s flown; the shooting star is gone and the world can’t get a grasp of the meaning of it.
There is a moment of silence. A break; and the the world keeps going.
People starts to forget what was like to be in his presence. How bright he was, how shiny his eyes shone when he was at the top, how his place was always under only the sky.
The stories don’t really reflect who he was. A new light shine above him and slowly only his strengths are known. His flaws are nothing more than a footnote.
He would have hate it. He had wore the crown and owned his flaws with pride, the words he spoke were true and thought. He was more that justa legend, more than a hero.
He was a human, a broken soul, a shattered heart, tired bones, sparkling eyes and dashing smile. How his sole presence lightened up a room and how brilliant hi made the world.
Slowly they all start to forget, they keep going on but the memory is fading away. Not the shine, that would never disappear; but the rest remain deep down in the fog.
The shooting star disappeared in the sky when the night started to took place. A shiny trail left behind; and the sight of the moon on the horizon as a the las landscape gifted by.
——————-
The night arrives and the moon is there; since the very first moment. The world turn the sight to the astro and they have found a new entity to worship.
Crimson. The very first sight of the moon is tinted by crimson. A rare phenomenon that makes every single one of the spectators feels fortunate to be witnessing such spectacle.
He is the moon. The white, crimson clothed astro; the cold and ethereal being. Part of the universe.
«Untouchable» they say when they try to reach.
«Egocentric» another one whispers.
History repeating time to time. They are amazed, they wanted to claim the success as theirs; everybody wants a piece of the gold, a light, a mention.
It’s lonely and tired. The world just keep going and the silent cries of a lonely being are just ignored by the cheers.
Crimson, and more crimson; seems to be a part of this history since the very beginning to the very end. Days and night comes and goes, and the winnings arrives and arrives, and everybody hates it.
«Not fair»
«Cheater»
«Illegal»
The words keep coming and he doesn’t know how to deal, nobody prepares you for this. Daggers stabs his heart and soul; and there is no more.
He smiles and nodes; he is grateful and humble; and it is a lie. He already learned how to lie, how to pretend.
He wants to scream, to say something. But he knows better. He is at the top, he is lonely, he is winning. He is tired and done. It is a relieve when the victories starts to go away, to fade into the background; he is sad but he is ok with that.
The world loves him and hates him. Somedays one option weights more than the other. He is bigger, he is all. He is the dim light and the amazed bright eyes of a child.
He is the dreams that somebody whisper in the confidence of a dark room. Everything is possible if he is there; the world loves him but he doesn’t loves the world, how could he? He loves the people but now it is to small, to tight.
The moon is to big, to bright in the night. Close but far away; a dream, an illusion. He doesn’t want to be one; so he left. And the world is unsure about what they should do; they keep going.
And the seas are dim, and slow and calm. The moon is far and the peace is like a warm hug; but he cant be away for long; so when the silver mist flood his sight he knows it is time.
Red is gone (but no for long).
And now he is covered in silver, he loves it. He did his best but he knows it is not the same. He is ok.
Old friends and new faces.
A new light shines above him and he knows this is the moment. He got a few more borrowed time, but this is it.
He walks away, and he observes. The moon is high in the sky and the morning is far away; he has time; (he doesn’t).
He started in crimson and he goes away the same way. The moon is far, now it is truly untouchable with a legacy bigger that anyone could ever imagined. He is missed, he is loved; and he is there.
The world does not forget him, they have a bit of him. But they started to change the narrative.
And the the morning came and the sunlight is brighter that anyone can expect. And a new version of this bright moon is starting to makes his own way. He can’t wait.
————
The day makes its way and erase the darkness in the sky with a bright and warm felling.
Then the daylight appears and the sun is shiny and new in the sky. It’s warm and it’s fire at the same time.
He is the sun. The unstoppable force, the king of the sky, the center. And they hate him.
«Different» an the word contains so much disdain that makes it sour.
«Impostor» they watch him with critical eyes just waiting for a mistake.
«Too much» and it hurts because it is him.
He is the sun, the king. The hero of the legend, he is to much, to big to be contained; an unstoppable force, energy.
They look at him and doesn’t like what they see, it is to different. The shooting star and the moon are to small compared to what he makes them feel, and they hate it.
He is the soft warm in the mornings, when the harsh winter is still fading away. He is the sun-kiss that make’s evert better, the promise of something new.
The love him for a bit. He is doing his best, he is to tired, to worn off, he keeps pushing.
He collects wins and trophies and points. He breaks records and establish new ones; he works hard and he is proud.
Founding what he had lost and he did not know is a thing, and his soul is now growing, and with every new trace of ink a new thing blossoms in his heart. He knows now.
Suddenly everything starts to burn and it is not him. People loves to hate and he is their favorite target. He is changing the history and they does not want it. He does it anyways.
He is the sun and the light but the dark an his demons appears; mind tricks and self doubts. He is falling through a hole. He is lonely and he wonders how the others dealt with this.
He is aline because jealousy tends to drive potential friends away. The he loses, and lose and lose and lose. Until the taste is no longer bitter and he accepts his success with humble.
And the he wins. One, two, three and suddenly he changes.
He change and now he is the vibrant midday sun, the fire. He is burning and burns everything he touches, and does not care the bare minimum.
He speaks and make sure his voice is loud enough; he is not afraid anymore. He is bigger than tiny boxes and stereotypes. He makes mistakes and it os okay because he wants to learn. The world does not forgives easily, but he not longer seeks his forgiveness.
He is loud and bold, and fearless and he is burning inside. He is the sun at the top of the sky; he is bright and he is not shy. He loves it, he has learned how to; he is different and now that is his proud.
He is the revolution, the fire that burns the ground, the light in the middle of the night, the path, that tiny ounce of hope that sits behind the fog. He is burning, and his bones knows, his soul is cracking with the weight of the world and he is out of breath.
He keeps going. He needs to. He have to.
He is fighting for something bigger than life. He is not a dying star; he is just starting.
They watch him with squinted eyes and a hand above; he is warm and true and to much. And the world learns how to love him; because he is. He is.
He is broken, and bent. Fixed with gold that only makes him shine more. He is dented and tired, and the universe loves him.
His chosen warrior, the one who is there to change things, to endure, to resists. To love with no repairs and gives his most all the time.
The day is just starting, the night has a long way to come. Maybe some clouds appears and tiny drops of rain let themselves to be.
But he is there. Broken and dented and crushed and brighter and bigger. He is warm and fire, he is consuming and breathe taking and a promise.
The whisper and the yell, the loud voice and the soft care. The contradiction. He is everything and nothing; he lefts and comes back and the world in this time does not keep going. They wait.
He does his best and takes the blame and is humble because he has learned. He is proud and he let the world watch him cry; he is too much, too true, he wears his hearth in his sleeve and he is not afraid.
He is the sun.
He is.
———
The shooting star that leaves to early.
The moon who now is retired.
The sun who is to bright and to consuming.
The world is still burning. The clock still have time. They were, they are.
The universe loves them, they keeps going. The are alive.
#ayrton senna#michael schumacher#lewis hamilton#sad thoughts#sad poetry#formula 1#f1#introspectiontime#character concept#f1 fic#english is not my native language#i tried my best#excesive use of the word him#sorry#f1 character study#nostalgic#i wanted to write something sad#poetry and prose#lh44#ayrton senna is the shooting star#michael schumacher is the moon#lewis hamilton is the sun
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4/7/22
To the man that should love me,
In my quest for love, I’ve kissed more frogs until the man that should love me can show up as the following:
The man that should love will put me first. Not just, first in a good morning text kinda way. But the first in his thoughts. He will love the better parts of me, and the not so good parts even more. He will understand my healing, my heart, my soul, and drench in my dreams. We will dive into dreams together; that kinda first.
The man that should love me will be kind. Not the kind to buy me coffee, or send me gifts, or, treat to a fancy dinner. But kind, to show up when I’m broken and hug my fears to sleep. Kind enough to help those around me and him, because no kind of money buys kindness.
The man that should love me will be gentle. And not in the way that he pulls the chair when I sit, or when he opens the doors for me, or when he puts on my jacket. But gentle to show up during my nightmares and rock me to sleep. Gentle to wipes my tears away when I fight my own worse demons.
The man that should love me, should also dream. And not power couple dream. But the type to hold my hand while I make mistakes during my fantasies lol . The man that should love me, will hold me while we both discover what dreams are made of.
The man that should love me, will be brave. And not in the way some men carry guns brave. But brave to do life with me, the kind who knows himself and his trauma enough and be brave enough to love himself either way.
The man that should love me will be fun. And not fun in the way that we splurge at nightclubs or expensive things. But fun in a way where he will hold my hand during my most craziest adventures. The kind that doesn’t turn away from endless nights of dancing or the adrenaline of climbing mountains or the loneliness of the desert.
The man that should love me will caring. And not in the way where he does everything for me. But in the way where the worse parts of me are taken care of. Those nights I can’t sleep, or the days I can’t think. Caring enough to get to know the real me, caring to know to rub my feet without me asking. Caring enough to run my bath water after an exhausting day. Caring enough to simply just care.
The man that WILL love me, will show up, as him, aware, full of flaws but ready for me.
In the meanwhile, I will mirror this so when he finds me, he sees himself in me, too 🤍
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Every so often, I will think about how massively the Nausicaa books affected my personal philosophies by and approach to life: I grew up as a kid watching a lot of media with deep themes- Lord Of The Rings, Pride and Prejudice, Star Trek, etc- but manny things common to western media were directly challenged in Nausicaa.
Western media at the time presented war and battle as glorious- Lord of the Rings also took the time to show the desperation, the loss, but the triumph, the glory was there- although balanced by Eowyn and her descovered of the brutality of war, and how sagas do not communicate pain. I had never seen what war was like, had not gotten a perspective on the kind of loss, the kind of tragedy, that is warfare, until I read the books. The film portrays the events of the first volume, with some modifications that wrapped up the story neatly, as a single packaged unit- but those who read the books know that the story goes significantly deeper- they know the Dorok Empire, the abominations of Genecraft created and maintained at the behest of the Crypt, and the pointless nature of religious warfare, and it’s self destructive nature, as all humans innately desire connection, safety, and peace- desire community.
I was shown a world of armies- where Nausicaa explicitly ended up helping people in both sides, and this helped me to see that people, no matter the side, are people. And no matter the cause, each loss is devastating. I read and watched Nausicaa evolve from a princess of the winds to a warrior Queen, commanding ( at gunpoint) squadrons of armored horse claws and loosing all of her men- and each loss she FELT. I learned several things about deep, sincere love, and about the numbness of loss, from reading and re-reading her story.
There are moments when I truly wish that Miyazaki had had the time, finding, and creative space to take each volume and turn it into a film of its own, but also recognize that censors would likely uave prevented much of the most important aspects of those volumes from reaching their audiences back at the times that he was creating the films- but the story remains- it is there- it is deep and poignant, and at least once a month, I will sit in my favorite chair, and will contemplate humanity, our destiny, our impact- and the discourse presented in Maisicaa will rise front and center in my mind.
I understand why there are not more Nausicaa films-
But every once in a while I dream that they could be.
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I don’t rant on this blog, but one thing that people tend to forget about is when you find or change an identity you have to not only contend and solidify what that means in relation to your life but also in relation to your other identities that you already use! You have to do the work and self reflection to truly understand why you are using this term and how it impacts you on so many different levels BEFORE you can can even define it for other people and figure out how it affects your interactions with others
Thank you for reading 💜💚
~skullkitten
#aromantic#aro#asexual#aroace#ace#lgbt#ace culture#aro ace#aromanticism#actually aromantic#aro culture#aro positivity#aromantic spectrum#arospec#ace positivity#ace pride#amatonormativity#aromantic pride#lgbtq#introspectiontime
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Cave of Reflection Scene Analysis
Having rewatched Barbie Mariposa (the original, mind you) recently, especially the Cave of Reflection scene, the parts of the reflections and how the three fairies react to them really struck me as an adult.
In this scene, the reflections can be seen as an insight into our minds and ego, but it can also be a metaphor for your inner critics and insecurities. How the fairies react to them can be a metaphor for how we deal with the mental side of ourselves.
Rayla was just not meant to be the one to find the antidote from the get-go, since the aversion she showed her reflection in the cave hints at her lack of inner stillness required to properly reflect in the final challenge, in addition to a lack of true understanding of herself, thus volunteering to stay behind was a wise choice.
Rayna, on the other hand, was able to reflect meaningfully with her reflection, but when the reflection highlighted how her pursuit of the antidote were for all the wrong reasons (prestige, a relationship with the Prince she was crushing on, wealth, etc.), it made her stop and think about why she was taking on that pursuit. The encounter also pushed her to willingly defend Mariposa from her own reflection when it insulted her friend as well as volunteering to stay back as well, a start to (Rayna's) budding maturity.
Mariposa was the only one to reflect with AND reason with her reflection during the final star test, even as it was flinging barbs at her regarding her introverted nature and insecurities about fitting in. In the end, she was able to refute her inner critic in this encounter as she reasoned why the star she selected was the antidote that would save the Queen, and by extension the Kingdom. Special points to her for using her constellation knowledge to her advantage and introspecting on how the lone star is akin to her usual loner status (both with a revolutionary purpose). She is rewarded for her success with a new set of wings, a physical manifestation of this inner growth.
Thanks for coming to my TED talk.
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I have come to a realization about myself and that is that some of the media that had a strong impact on my life has glaring flaws that I can't ignore, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to like it.
A good example of this would probably be BioShock Infinite. I played it at a very difficult time in my life and it gave me happiness even if at the time I didn't fully grasp the bullshit the game threw at the wall and tried to make stick.
Looking deeper I realize that I really didn't even play the game for the story it was trying to tell. I just thought the gameplay was fun and Elizabeth was (and still is) my biggest gaming crush. The story falls apart like a sleeve of crackers in a backpack and the "both sides are bad" bullshit gets real old real quick.
Basically I take what I like and leave the rest because fiction is my plaything and I will do what a please with it, while at the same time acknowledging the faults in what I consume so I'm not too biased or up my own ass about my opinions.
#fandom#media criticism#media critique#gaming#bioshock infinite#self reflection#introspectiontime#don't feel guilty about liking stupid shit#you could always do worse
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Be terrified of being shallow and then prevent it. Your soul will crave to leave the body it hates, use anxiety as a signal or fuel and streamline your actions accordingly. Unluckiest persons are those who're happy with themselves. Understand the difference between happy and satisfied, being happy is not virtuous and depends on plenty of non-valuable parameters. Happiness is a pure dopamine hike. Being satisfied with the work you've done.. you've already created a small little legacy of your own, this is permanent. These small "satisfactions" will build up a huge empire someday. Keep embracing pain and train like savages.
- $AYON
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In the vein of change being life and the hindsight of things: this new piece by the ever talented Gibiart on YCH commissions conveys most of my feelings on the whole nature of change and the way life leaves its marks in places most cannot see.
Truth be told I've only ever had a Kintsugi Heart and for those who can love me with it that's what matters.
And to my midnight you are the very gold-mending that flows between the cracks.
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"Glitchhikers has brought the metaphor of travel and identity back into my focus, but the control it gives me by putting me literally behind the wheel, as well as just being in a different place in my life, is both new and affirming. Functionally, the game is a chill as fuck indie title with cool music and quirky visuals. It’s a nice way to wind down a day. But the more time I spend with it, the more I’m able to take stock of where I’ve been and where I’m going. Who I’ve been along the way and where my mind is wandering to now, knowing that I have the steering wheel this time." - Claire Jackson, Kotaku
#indie game#videogam review#kotaku#glitchhikers#glitchhikers the spaces between#introspectiontime#video game music#silverstring media#fellow traveller#walking simulator#driving simulator#late night
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put a finger down if you you were an only child with social insecurities
put a finger down if you if you were really passionate when speaking about things you really liked
put a finger down if at some point it became harder to voice your excitement/opinions when in a group of friends causing insecurity in your interests
put a finger down if you would often times find express yourself emotionally to a friend and they didn’t give it the time and care you have/would have given them
put a finger down if you down if you got tired of fighting for your voice to be heard and eventually stopped talking about your feelings or interests
put a finger down if people you’re talking to often walk away from you mid sentence or out right ignore what you’re saying/start a new conversation
put a finger down if people often tell you you’re “really quiet”
put a finger down if you have developed a strong inner voice to deal with your problems
put a finger down if when people asked you what you’re thinking about, you would say “i don’t know” or “nothing” to avoid having to talk about things because you’ve become uncomfortable with the concept of expressing yourself
put a finger down if you’ve developed complexes around your hobbies and struggle to enjoy them how you feel you should
put a finger down if you find yourself dissociating often
put a finger down if now when people ask you to repeat yourself, you genuinely cannot remember because perhaps as a defense mechanism your brain now directly sends your immediate short term memories to the dump
if you put 3 or more fingers down damn, you just like me fr
#infj struggles#infj mbti#silenced#psychology#thoughts#relatable posts#introspective writing#introspectiontime
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