a conch's voice
kinda crazy... every time i want to do something, im like, would that have killed tyler? i wanted to vagueblog abt something just now but i thought, wow, any traumatized individual could read this as a threat on their life.
skrrrt, strolling down my eerily straight and smooth memory lane.
grand scale i always struggled with my personal impression -- what some would consider a classic audhd fight to be "understood" -- on my social world. perfect transing conditions of course, but no trans person mediates their relationship with "viewability" the same.
2011-2015/16 i was Big blogging as some persona that was abt as "real" as "i" could get. so much tsongkhapa and deleuze and baudraillard and butler yet i was still invested in mapping out who i was and how i wanted to enact that. flying by the seat of her pants as an adolescent / young adult with more self awareness than she could use! after a few too many pints of spilled blood in trying to reconcile the authenticity of those two selves with the oversized feedback loop i dug myself into, i realized the precision was the problem for me.
im very gullible. specifically, when im not working conscientiously i easily lose sight of who i am, my goals, the whole shebang. memory things, dissociation things... for a long time basic low self esteem things. i would much ratherve been someone else, and its easy to type myself into cognitive tension with my past! queen behavior was to distort how i express my feelings for maximum positive engagement and tie their psychological merit to their discursive application in the field.
2016/17 is when my endeavors failure hit me though, and the hobbsons choice was imminent -- (a) aim for total accuracy, put your whole ass out their for it to be minced and composted, blur the lines between your sense of self and your social milieu or (b) disappear, evade semiotic capture, obfuscate the publicity of human connection. razor thin or ocean wide.
2013/14-2016, the size of my voice broadening my audience to unacquainted bad faith or irrational actors, hitting its apex when i was peak suicide risk. i got too tired of broadcasting distant vibrations from a bleeding shell, singing of a depth unfathomable to our context, a stranger to my own ears. i was being so honest, but that truth looked evil in stage lighting.
so 2017-18 i consolidated my digital footprint and pulled back on the accuracy of embodying and expressing my sense of self, concurrent with psychiatric ego death during institutionalized dual recovery programs. i couldnt even think or write directly for a long time after that... weird to say it outright like that but my meds help me be honest with myself. no creation, no outlet, and no intention, but a lot of tripping and falling.
2018-2021/22 i carried myself with a sincere love and detached interpersonal expertise that lent itself to elevated aphorism. connected when i could and wanted to, extended and sought out support, found peers and explored new ways of life. tried my best not to embody anything. left opinions as batter in my brains mixing bowl.
i dont know... this piece became harder to write the closer i got to the baggage of my current habits. and its still so fresh. nobody deserved any of this. i cant compose anymore
the obscuration was the problem this time. too much empty space to project into, and too much exhausted passivity to cut away the embers of delusion. blood, bruises, scars, mourning and grief... rampant suffering over expectations and misunderstandings...
i want to post about nothing. i want to spread my whimsy, and be misunderstood. i want people to connect my meaninglessness to their feelings, and i want them to feel good about their mundane invocation. i want to be furious, i want to be awe-inspired, i want to be giddy! i want to be vague!!!!!! i want to express myself, i want to play and sing, i want to write poetry and stories and essays and rants on my page without sending someone into a spiral about who they think i might be!!!!!!!!!!!! please let us both live!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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sallysbakingaddiction’s guinness brownies recipe won’t load and it’s killing me. saalllllyyyyyyy let me innnnnnnnnnn
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Begging on my paws and knees someone remind me to draw itsy in a dress later today
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credit: @stupid-twink-girl
(this was an accidental repost, do rb the original instead)
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inspired by boop day, reblog this post if its ok for people to send you random asks and interact on your posts with no judgement. i want to talk to people.
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VERY IMPORTANT a dam in the Netherlands, the weerdsluis lock, is directly on a migratory path for spawning fish. They have a worker stationed there to open the door for the fish, but they can take a while to open it. So to keep the fish from getting preyed on by birds they installed a doorbell. Only, the fish don't have hands to ring the doorbell. If you go to their website, they have a LIVE CAMERA AND A DOORBELL that YOU RING FOR THE FISH when they're waiting, and then the dam worker opens the door for them! I can't express how obsessed I am with this. look at this shit. oh my god.
Please check on the fish doorbell once in a while :)
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