Geekin' around @geekinaround - Tumblr Blog

besties here's something to vibe with in a closet 🤭💪

nokhushionlygam-deactivated2023

if you ask the shopkeeper for 8 mango bits, you get 1 mango byte

chashniii-deactivated20220329

it's fucking hard to talk to parents sometimes. all they see is a brat, someone who is constantly acting out, someone who doesn't listen to anything they say, someone who back talks when she should know better. but they never try to understand the reason behind this behavior. as soon as you start explaining they tell you to grow up and stop being so sensitive and compare you to the other kids who are under the same pressure. "why are you breaking when they are not? why is your mental health getting affected when theirs is not?" are the questions they ask. how do you answer this? how do you explain that not everyone is the same. not everyone can take the same amount of pressure. not everyone is happy all the time. how?

best-of-inspirobot

tearlessrain

this is in perfect iambic meter and sounds like the first line of a weird poem

tearlessrain

Rule #2

Don’t ever hug a lobster when you see one on the street,

For decorum is essential when a lobster you must greet.

You may comment on the weather, compliment his choice of hat,

But crustaceans like their space if one should stop them for a chat.

Don’t ever hug a lobster when you’re strolling down the coast,

Simply nod and give a greeting, or a handshake at the most,

For a lobster’s first priority is formal social graces,

And one seemes over-familiar if a lobster one embraces.

Don’t ever hug a lobster when you meet one in the sea,

For a lobster’s spines and chitin make it difficult, you see,

And he might become self-conscious if you bring that fact to light,

So don’t ever hug a lobster, simply put, it’s impolite.

pathos-logical

[ID: An image of two people shaking hands with the text “Rule #2: don’t ever hug a lobster when you see one on the street” above their hands. End ID]

phantomrose96

“Be sure to shake it!” the bubble tea barista tells me but I don’t. I won’t. Why would I? “It mixes the sugar” maybe you want that. Maybe YOU do. To be drinking some homogenous concoction. Uniformly distributed. Each sip the same as the last. Just as sweet. Just as sweet. Just as sweet. All pointless flat indulgence. No personality. No humanity. A time-loop of your own devising, bereft of experience, sanitized of risk.

I want my first sip to be teeth-curdlingly sweet. I want the next to be horribly disappointing. I want to hunt. I want to jab my straw into pockets of substance like my ancestors stirring twigs into a bug colony. I want to raise the straw to different depths and feel something. The ocean is so far but I know what it means to rise from its syrupy dark depths into the still waters above.

I want all boba. I want no boba. I want to scoop the bubbles with my straw when the ice-rocks have been washed dry by the tide. “Be sure to shake it.” Never. I want to experience every human emotion in this cup of tea. I am not a coward. I am not a sheep. My tea is still enough for pond-skaters to glide. It will not shake. Live your repetitive nothing. Live in fear of the unknown. Live your fear of change. I am choking on a boba.

gen-is-gone

phantomrose96

You. You understand this post.

koushiki-das

That’s…….. just me.

I can't help but wonder if I'm nothing but graffiti by the people I meet

because I still remember the stupid jokes some guys made behind my desk, worship the movies that the girl I like enjoys, cry over a playlist made by my bestfriend, watch a show just because the person I text likes it, think about my classmate's favorite book

maybe I'm just a tangram and I collect every little piece that you leave behind and treasure it with all my might

is it love when you fall for their favorite books and their comfort music and worship their every move and think about them when things get quiet but they don't even know you exist????

you loved me in your promises, but soon it was winter and they slipped away like fog in your breath

i wish i could

just die right now

behind my hair;

maybe then this

boiling self hatred

would stop;

i'm so sick

of cursing myself

so tired of

cranking music

to forget myself