feel free to dm me || basically an AFTG fan account at this point the brainrot is too bad || number 1 Zane Reacher hater || unfortunately for everyone I am incapable of simply shutting the fuck up
autism is so cool man. i can say something innocuous and completely true at work, like 'mackerel is a top tier fish', and people get giggly and tell me I'm so funny. what's funny about a nice firm fish with a subtle, almost earthy flavor? not sure. but people are offering me other objects and I can tell them if they're top tier or not. very fun.
Ever since I was a child, I've always suspected that something was a little.. off.. about me.
Whenever I was introduced to the term, “therian,” it all began to make sense.
In kindergarten, I'd wander the playground at school on all fours and communicate via barks, growls, and strange hissing sounds. My peers never really said anything about it, they simply avoided me like the plague; because, honestly, who wants to talk to a five or six-year-old who can barely string together coherent sentences without adding in some offputting animal noises?
During the frequent family roleplays that commenced between my peers, I would always beg and plead to be the pet. They'd always allow it, because I swore not to make it a big thing and it wouldn't interfere with anything else.
My teachers were confused, obviously. My habit of eating food from the floor began around this time, as did the bullying from my peers for my strange behaviors.
However, that's normal for a child, right? I was still developing, figuring out how the world works. No child is normal during this time. I know this, you know this, we all know this.
It first started to become an actual “problem” for those around me throughout my elementary school years.
The first year or so was normal. Like other kids my age, I was disruptive and socially inept. I made friends with a girl who claimed to be a vampire (I still think of her often, I hope she's well) and a boy who said his mom was the president. A child's imagination is near-incomprehensible to the adult mind, even though we've all experienced it in the past.
Around the time that third grade was starting, everyone around me seemed to be.. growing up. They were forming large friend groups (most of which ended up lasting until highschool graduation), becoming aware of their surroundings, and understanding human body language.
I felt as though I was stuck in time.
Unfortunately, my way of expressing feelings and emotions had yet to progress. I was still making weird sounds and scrunching up my face to showcase discomfort. I violently wiggled my lower body as a sign of excessive happiness. Basically, I hadn't figured out what the human equivalent to these signs were.
At the creek near our house, surrounded by my family, I'd remain horizontal. I despised walking on two legs, for it took me longer and it made me feel strangely tall. I was never meant to solely use my hind legs, none of us were.
I'd fold my hands to imagine them as paws and use them to dig large holes in the dark sand. Once I had a big enough hole, I defended it with my life and referred to it as my den. Some would call this early signs of derangement, but I refer to it as the early tells of who I truly was.
My family would stay at the creek for hours upon hours. On all fours with me, for the most part, was my younger brother and cousin. They were simply copying what I was doing. Whenever they pleased, they felt comfortable stopping these behaviors and returning upright. I did not.
The drive home was always devastating for my younger self. Everyone else was fine with it, ready to rest after a long day of wasting away beneath the sweltering sun. I missed my den.
If it were up to me, I'd have spent my entire life down by the water in my little den.
It wasn't up to me, though.
In the fourth grade, my cousin, brother, and I formed a sort of wolf pack. I was the leader, because I knew the most about how packs functioned in the real world, and because I was a very controlling child during this time.
We acted out this wolf pack every time we saw eachother, for hours on end. It was always my idea. They were younger, so they complied.
This continued for several years. We had extensively discussed our characters, lore, and pack dynamics. It was the highlight of my childhood, and I look back on it quite fondly.
Around this time, my family took note of the behaviors I hadn't seemed to grow out of. They told me to stand up, speak correctly, and act “normal.” So, I did just that.
Middle school attacked me like a freight train before I could even comprehend that life was moving on in the first place.
Classes got longer, recess was completely scrapped, and I no longer saw my brother and cousin as often as I once had.
Those years went by in a haze, as did my time in highschool. Dissociation kept me standing and (somewhat) mentally sane.
I was absolutely miserable, though. I felt like an animal forced to go through all the motions of being a human. These feelings persisted for so long that I believed they would become my normal.
At seventeen years old, I fully dropped out of highschool in pursuit of an early finish. I got my diploma equivalent in eleven days and, within a month, I was enrolled in college.
College was.. a lot, especially during my first year. The workload was nothing like what I had ever experienced before and studying took up most of my free time. I quickly became depressed and, as a result, spent the last bit of my free time in online communities for my favorite games.
In one of these communities, I met someone online. For the sake of their anonymity, I will refer to them as Clover.
Clover was an elk therian. At the time, I knew close to nothing about therianthropy, so I had plenty of questions for them. And, luckily, they were kind enough to answer every question that I broached them with.
Upon learning about Clover's identity, I grew curious. That little wolf-child within me who had been silenced and locked away for their own safety and sanity had begun gnawing at the bars of their mental jail cell.
The next year passed slowly as I grew to accept every part of myself again, and show myself the love in which I deserve. Over this period of time, I created this account to make likeminded friends and learn more information about the community.
Finally, I had a reason as to why I acted the way that I did whenever I was younger. I wasn't just some strange child with an inability to move on. No, no. I was a pup, lost and confused and raised by humans who refused to accept me for who I was.
All therians will, at some point, start off this way; as pups, or kits, or hatchlings, or chicks, or whatever the term may be.
As they grow, they will turn into the incredible creatures that they are. Their wings will carry them far, their paws will spread out to encompass the world, and their antlers will reach the treetops.
Therianthropy is a beautiful thing, one that shouldn't be feared or slandered. One day, I hope that everyone will understand it, or, at the very least, respect it, more.
Short essay written by user WULFBONES on Tumblr, 2026.
Like we have commodified human connection to a degree where if you go beyond smalltalk you're oversharing and if you talk too deeply about your life you're traumadumping and if you get visibly upset you're manipulative and if you care too much you're codependent and if you want to talk about anything heavy you're expected to go hire a therapist because your friends shouldn't have to deal with that stuff and yet we're all sitting around wondering why so many people are lonely...
listen to me, this is so so important: you've gotta get used to really giving it your 60% as a default. like don't half-ass it necessarily but try not to go over 70% or so of an ass. you'll feel better and live a happier more fulfilled life, and on the rare occasions where you do need to lock the fuck in you'll be able to pull off bullshit that the sad miserable wretches giving it their 100% can never dream of, because they're busy draining themselves dry and you have energy reserves to spare.
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