Haphazard Speculation(s)

I spend a lot of time thinking about, among other things, the world and the universe; reality as perception; religion, philosophy, galaxies and black holes. I think about what I'll be doing next. Either what I'll be doing tonight, or months and years from now. Or even just what song I want to play next. I seriously think way too much...

[tastefullyoffensive]

(via RyanAbe)

[mynameiscisco]

It's 2's day

[tastefullyoffensive]

(via RyanAbe)

[mynameiscisco]

Next year

[recaption]

[halfwayhouseonlife-deactivated2]

[unfortunately-awake]

F e e l i n g s

[justinagain-blog]

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

— E.E. Cummings

Even Littles have to grow up in some ways too.

(via ageplaydepressionpeernetwork)

[syntacked]

[destroymylife]

have a nice day :)

[jeniferher-nandez]

[florence-bobo]

”.. conversations often end abruptly or are filled with awkward, unexplainable silences.”

[dustytit]

It got my attention with the “little eye contact, clammy hands,(although for me its just stress sweat like crazy), and staying away from social activities” I haven’t gone to my local school religious group at all this year because they kind of terrify me a little bit. THEYRE LOVELY CHRISTIANS. I am a straight up wuss omg

[minsarchi-deactivated20250502]

Honestly, it’s like getting into a pool. Once you’ve decided to swim, it’s just the matter of jumping in. The water feels great after a while!

[queenofthepassiveaggressive]

^^^ I hope you are joking.

[yayyay03-deactivated20160319]

All those symptoms sound so much like me omf @.@

[thatphatfunnyfriend-deactivated]

But maybe I like being recluse and don’t want to be a social butterfly? I feel like this is encouraging people to force themselves to be extroverts which would exhaust you after awhile and make you feel like being an introvert isn’t ok. I mean I like some of the tips but why don’t we encourage introverts to be a little more comfortable in their skin instead of more or less pushing towards a different personality type

[gay-since-1998-deactivated20230]

[blue-raft]

tonight there were poems and the moon came out even closer than it did last night. poet asked the room if they felt like “happy love” or “sad love” poem. everyone chose sad and it’s nice in a twisted-not-actually-nice-way that i’m not the only one feeling that. i mean i guess i feel less alone in something i know i was never alone in. what’s a better word than nice that would still apply here

i have this weird anxiety of being the last person in a room after there were so many people in the room. i’ve found that is my least favorite part of co-hosting poetry events, the abrupt stop when everything stops being poetry and the stuff the poetry contained spills out. that end part, that’s where the metaphor comes to life, just until i can run out of the room. i run out of the room the way you run out of a room when the lights go out, and before whatever is under the bed comes out to grab you by the ankles. i think i’m afraid of my solitude not recognizing itself in the dark, not being able to see its fingers and just getting desperate enough to sneer itself lonely in defense against anyone recognizing it for what it’s not. i am okay being alone but sometimes i’m not because i realize that i am. does that make sense

i’m sitting on the stoop and i can’t see the moon from here anymore. t’s behind the house, but i know it looks so eerie tonight, diffused in a subtle way so that it still gets to be annihilating. kind of like a sneer but not at all. i can keep it in my head so the orange streetlight trying to replace the atmosphere around my stoop isn’t as effective as it wants to be.

i was eating phish food ice cream and a black and white cat with dubloons for eyes decided she wanted to be my friend. i feel like she hatched out of the moon and that’s why i can’t see it from where i’m sitting. i was humming and she rested her face on my lap in a human sort of way and let me hug her and i can’t stop thinking about it, about how her tail could have been a palm smoothing my face back and forth. every time i asked her a question she would look at me. i asked her if she was my friend, if she knew the future, if nights would stop ending like the sad poems.

maybe she didn’t hatch from the moon. maybe she hatched from me. maybe the teeth i feel inside the dark inside my person is just this cat yawning, making her ears pop in order to listen better for anyone else that might be out there. and then cat left and maybe she’s following who else is out there, going to find that. that’s a nice thought. this night doesn’t have to end like a sad poem.

[redrola]

[dont-give-a-fuck-club]

[c--e--l--e--b--r--i--t--i--e--s]

Timothée Chalamet

[recaption]

[recaption]

[recaption]