Panda Propaganda @novofly - Tumblr Blog

this shot of the joker pulling up his pants leg seems to imply that the white part of his feet is actually just bare skin, not fabric spats over a pair of dress shoes, as i had always assumed?? which means that the animated series joker has actually been wearing, like, kitten heeled pumps this entire time

anthonybourdainpartsunknown

how does he produce full movies in three mins?? give him his oscar already

purpleheartjam

WOW someone give this man a small loan of 1 million dollars to make a movie that will kill us all

Complex Partial Seizures (Or Whatever)

I am desperately searching for a clear definition of the word ‘crazy’. Not in a dictionary, but within my own mind. My mind presents me with something, not an image or statement or anything so tangible. Not even a thought, not even an idea. Just some chemicals, perhaps. Neurotransmitters. The currents of my brain flow back towards me, wherever it is that I reside, in there, and they tell me that the definition of the word ‘crazy’ is, in fact, me. I try to fight against this, but how can I? I don’t even know what I’m fighting against. It isn’t a thought. It isn’t an idea. My sub-conscious fixes me with a tired stare, doesn’t gesture, doesn’t blink. Perhaps her eyebrow raises, an infinitesimal amount, and the waves crash down upon my being once again. They don’t come with a message, they are not a symbol or a metaphor. They are simply there, and I find my own self saying ‘You. You are crazy.’ Deep breaths. See, there. I’m back in the room. I can still feel the mattress underneath me and the cool breeze from the open door. But something, innately physical and yet somehow completely psychological tugs at my chest. As if a soup ladle has scooped it’s way under my heart and is now gently attempting to remove it. They call this the aura. I know it means the seizure is coming. My thoughts writhe and fizzle. Like some mad scientist has combined fireworks with snakes and set them free inside me. Memories come marching towards me, in a constant stream. Perhaps some are real, I suspect most are not. They did not deign to wear a label or tag. There are no armbands declaring ‘fake!’ and so I build a blockade and send them off in another direction. A few still get through and begin to haunt me. Each time one emerges I relive it, imagine it, whatever it, try push it away. I feel the soup ladle tug, a little harder. My body freezes.  Deep breaths, deep breaths. Back in the room. Once the memory is pushed away it disappears forever. Or at least that’s what I think. Sometimes I wonder if it’s the same one each time. How would I know? I never remember them afterwards. But it’s so clear, I remember that. So vivid. So much a part of my life. As it flows away from me, I cannot comprehend that this thing is not truly a real experience. For a few seconds I feel as if someone has informed me that I have a different name, and I just have to accept it. I can’t say ‘hang on, wait a minute, I’m sure that was my name!’ because I know I imagine things that aren’t real but seem real and I know they slip away and I know I can’t trust anything my brain tells me anymore. My mind is muddled and fuzzy and I am being accosted with a million thoughts that I cannot comprehend, and what is worse is that I’m pretty sure some of them are wonderful ideas. But they tease me. They dance in front of me, gyrating their hips and waving a feather across the bridge of my nose. And then slink away. And then others come and these ones aren’t wonderful. I am aware, dimly, that this is a seizure, but the thoughts do not let me stray away from them. They grab at me, at my heart, at my stomach, at my lungs. They shout that they are real and I, under intense duress, can only agree. They hold me hostage and within seconds I get Stockholm Syndrome, they are real, they are real. They tell me they’re real and I need them to be real. And then they smile at me, smugly. Raise their chin. Deliver a cold, back-handed slap across my face and declare me a fool. We’ve never been real, they say, you fool, you fool, you crazy fool. They slither away, release me from their chains and I fall, hard, onto the frozen, cement floor. Shockwaves course up my body. I need to be sick. I was holding onto them, so dearly, that the release was worse than their control over me. Who am I? Was I that person, that they told me I was, or somebody else? Where am I? Deep breaths, deep breaths. Back in the room. In what room? What room is this? It’s a bathroom. I came to be sick, I suppose, but how did I get here? I don’t know, I have no memory of it. I sit on the floor and take a few breaths. Try to think. But my logic has left me on my own. It’s gone on leave, due to stress. ‘Emotions in charge until further notice’ says the hastily scribbled post-it note stuck to my door. Emotions? I give them a brief try and immediately push them away again. They’ve never worked well under pressure. Best not to think then. Head in hands. Deep breaths. Logic pokes it’s head round the door. Tells me to get out of this bathroom. Disappears again. Right. Up. Out. Where am I? Where was I? What parts of my brain can I trust? Back to the mattress. Thoughts writhing. Fizzling. Dancing. Teasing. Tormenting. Crushing. Gaining my trust and abandoning me. Is this my mind, now? Is this where I live? This used to be such a nice neighbourhood. Now I don’t know anyone. Who can I ask, to borrow sugar? Half of these neighbours would attack me. Who can I trust? Not myself, for the thoughts are me and I am the thoughts. I am the neighbours. I am the neighbourhood. I'm writhing and fizzling. I’m teasing. I’m tormenting. I’m attacking. And I can’t, dammit, I can’t even trust myself. Deep breaths. Deep Breaths. What is the definition of ‘crazy’?

#epilepsy #epilepsyawareness #seizures #complex partial seizures #simple partial seizures #crazy #partial seizures #petite mal #logic #writing #drabble #trust #brain #mind

heathens-and-kings

I’m gonna be blunt: you bring little worth to a friendship if you’re apathetic toward the good in your friends’ lives. If you shrug when they come to you with little things that they’re happy about, they will eventually stop coming to you with anything and you’ll wonder why that relationship feels stale. Practice genuine excitement with the people in your life. If you see a friend try to downplay how excited they are about something just be like “yoooo! This is a cool thing! You’re a lovely person and you deserve lovely things! I love you!“

I think it’s easy to be someone people complain to, but it’s just as if not more important to be someone they know they’re allowed to be excited and proud and happy around.

theweirdwideweb

akhietz-deactivated20170215

“When the rich were greedy, Allah made them wear the clothes of the poor with the highest prices.”

- Al Afasy

ygsolis

rejennerate-deactivated20210131

God sent Yeezy

ibrayeet

GOD SENT YEEZY

thepunjabihermit

WOOOOWWWW

fuckyeahafricans

IG: @official.noodlez She hit every beat 👌🔥

thechaddaddy

I feel like I never see girls embrace this form of dance. She did that.

thoughtsof-r

geee so smooth wit it too

khadds

I love how happy she made herself that was beautiful

minowly

01101010-01100100

his name is take a look

me: there are about ten different kinds of seizures, and only a select few are convulsive

non-epileptic person: ok no, see i watched one season of House MD and now im a medical professional, and

twitterlols

bunsen-deactivated20150516

she tried

stability

foxgraves

there are 4 planets in retrograde right now plus a full moon and everyone i know is either off the walls horny, disassociating, or more depressed than usual

plasmalogical

sometimes ill go “hey… hey” at my dog until she calms down and looks at me and then ill tell her “smoke weed every day” and she goes wild. idk what she thinks it means