nihilum

erin – 24 brain full of theories, heart full of questions.

[silentium-mentis]

about me

erin | 24 | any pronouns

this is my side blog.

a place for ramblings and long-winded thoughts that spiral too far from the content on my main.

sometimes it’s philosophical. sometimes it’s emotional. sometimes it’s just me thinking too loud in text form.

if it’s not your thing—block me, filter me, scroll past.

i’m not here to convince, just to exist.

astroworld documentary dive

stonewall trans & bi erasure

[silentium-mentis]

unrequited

She tried, at first, to dress it in something softer, something that wouldn’t make her feel quite so hollow when she said it out loud in the quiet privacy of her own mind, turning the words over like fragile glass she was afraid to shatter; she wanted to call it love, wanted to believe it had that same sacred warmth people wrote poems about, that it lived somewhere gentle and golden in her chest, but it didn’t feel gentle, it didn’t feel golden, it felt sharp, invasive, like something with roots burrowing too deep beneath her ribs, wrapping tight around her lungs until even breathing seemed like an act of surrender to it. She wanted to call it passion, because passion sounded alive, sounded mutual, sounded like fire shared between two bodies reaching toward each other in equal measure, but this, this was a fire that only consumed, never warmed, licking at the edges of her thoughts until there was nothing left untouched, no corner of her mind that didn’t echo with him, with the way he laughed, the way he spoke, the way he existed so effortlessly without ever once looking back to see if she was still there. And she was always there. That was the worst part. Always lingering just out of sight, stitching entire worlds out of the smallest scraps he left behind, a glance that meant nothing, a word spoken in passing, a smile that belonged to everyone and no one at all, and she hoarded them like they were rare and precious, like they were proof of something real when, deep down, she knew they were nothing more than shadows she was desperate to give shape to. It made her feel monstrous, the way it clung to her, the way it refused to loosen its grip no matter how much she tried to reason with herself, because she did know, somewhere beneath the ache and the longing and the sickening pull of it all, she knew there was no reciprocity waiting for her, no hidden depth she hadn’t yet uncovered, no moment where everything would shift and he would finally see her the way she saw him. There was only this. This quiet, suffocating certainty that what she felt was not love, not passion, but something far more isolating, something that fed on silence and distance and her own willingness to keep believing in something that had never once reached back for her, and maybe that was the most terrifying part of it all, not just that it was unrequited, but that it had never been anything else, not even for a second.

[qjaiden]

[qjaiden]

WHO ARE THESE CHARACTERS YOU GUYS ARE TAGGING URE MAKING THEM UP ATP

[isawken]

op wasn’t kidding. this post is plagued by mumbo freaking jumbo

[silentium-mentis]

The Trump administration has asked the Supreme Court to approve its plan to deploy National Guard troops in Illinois, after lower courts blocked the move.

Trump has claimed that Chicago is “lawless” and needs military intervention to control protests and protect federal immigration facilities. Earlier this month, he federalized the Illinois National Guard against Gov. JB Pritzker’s objections.

Texas Gov. Greg Abbott has also sent several hundred of his state’s troops to assist in the deployment, despite Illinois being a Democratic-led state.

Trump has tried the same approach in other cities, insisting federal troops are needed to “crack down” on crime. City leaders have called the move unnecessary—and accused him of overreaching his power to deploy military force.

For Chicago, this move feels like more than just another political stunt — it’s a threat to autonomy, to a city that’s long had to fight its own battles while being scapegoated by people who’ve never lived there. Chicago’s problems have always been complex, rooted in poverty, segregation, and decades of political neglect — not something a line of troops on Michigan Avenue can fix. But that’s never been the point. Deploying the military isn’t about restoring safety. It’s about optics. It’s about control. It’s about manufacturing chaos so you can step in and play the hero.

And for me, it’s hard to watch without feeling personally sickened. I lived in Illinois for 22 years — just about an hour from Chicago. It’s where I grew up, where weekend trips into the city meant lakefront winds, museums, concerts, late-night food runs, and the kind of loud, layered energy that makes the city feel alive. Chicago isn’t perfect — no city is — but it’s home to millions of people who deserve better than to be treated like a political battleground.

The thought of soldiers on those streets — the same streets families walk, the same corners where kids grow up — feels dystopian. It’s the kind of thing you read about in history books and swear could never happen here. But it is happening. And it’s painful to see the place I once called home being used as a stage for someone else’s performance of power.

[silentium-mentis]

sometimes i dream of us in the scottish highlands — the wind tangling through our hair, the hems of our dresses brushing against the wild heather as we run hand in hand through the glen. the air is cool and alive, a soft drizzle kissing our skin, and for a moment it feels like the whole world has stopped just to watch us exist.

[silentium-mentis]

This might come off more like a rant than an essay, and honestly? I don’t care. Our so-called “justice” system has made it abundantly clear it has very little interest in justice at all. Case in point: the Menendez brothers. Their sentences were changed from life without parole to with the possibility of parole—a sliver of hope after decades behind bars. And yet, when that possibility finally came, it was slammed shut. Denied. After over three decades served. After losing their youth, their lives, their futures. Denied.

And here’s what infuriates me: I feel deeply for Gypsy Rose Blanchard. She endured horrific abuse and killed her mother as a result. She served her time, she was released, and now she’s been able to marry—twice—and start building a family of her own. Society found it in its heart to grant her a second chance. And rightly so.

So tell me—why don’t Erik and Lyle deserve the same grace? They, too, were victims of sustained, devastating abuse. They, too, acted out of trauma and desperation. Why is their suffering discounted? Why is their humanity dismissed?

I’ll tell you why. Because they’re men. And because they came from wealth. The system doesn’t just punish crime—it punishes identity, gender, class. Had they been poor? Or women? Or poor women? Society might well have wept for them, embraced them as tragic figures, and advocated for their release years ago.

People love to assume wealth shields you from abuse—that money equals escape. That if you’re rich, you can simply pack up, walk away, and build anew. That’s a fantasy. No amount of money erases an abuser’s control, their power, their grip on your psyche. Wealth doesn’t protect you from trauma—it can in fact make it worse, because society refuses to believe your pain is real.

Erik and Lyle Menendez are not monsters who need to rot away in prison until death. They are survivors who acted in the only way they believed they could. If we can acknowledge abuse in one case, we should acknowledge it in all. Anything less isn’t justice—it’s hypocrisy dressed up in a courtroom robe.

[wordx]

[loveridden1999]

everything requires money

[vexheart]

[bowlifecomics]

It makes me happy when they listen

[silentium-mentis]

Same-sex marriage has only been legal nationwide for ten years. Ten. And now, they’re trying to undo it.

ABC News posted a TikTok about this, with the caption:

Ten years after the Supreme Court extended marriage rights to same-sex couples nationwide, the justices this fall will consider for the first time whether to take up a case that explicitly asks them to overturn that decision.

Kim Davis, the former Kentucky county clerk who was jailed for six days in 2015 after refusing to issue marriage licenses to a gay couple on religious grounds, is appealing a $100,000 jury verdict for emotional damages plus $260,000 for attorneys fees.

It’s maddening — not just because it’s an attack on queer rights, but because it reveals how fragile “progress” really is. A decade is nothing in the scope of history, yet we treat these hard-won rights like they’re permanent fixtures. They aren’t. They are always one court case, one stacked bench, one political swing away from being stripped.

It’s a reminder that for queer people, stability is often an illusion. That the milestones celebrated in the streets — the weddings, the anniversaries, the “love wins” signs — can still be dragged back into court like they were never ours to begin with.

And this isn’t some abstract policy debate. It’s about the real possibility of watching people’s marriages, families, and legal protections vanish because a handful of powerful people decided they should. It’s about being told, over and over, that your love is conditional — valid only until it’s inconvenient for someone else’s belief system.

It’s exhausting. And it’s terrifying.

For those who don’t want to watch the video, here’s the breakdown.

Senior Washington correspondent Devin Dwyer narrates the piece, noting that some in the legal and political spheres have been waiting for a case like this — especially now, as sentiment against same-sex marriage has begun to creep back into public discourse. There’s been speculation for years about whether the Supreme Court would ever get a chance to reconsider marriage equality.

Enter Kim Davis. In 2015, as a Kentucky county clerk, she became an international flashpoint when she refused to issue marriage licenses to a queer couple in defiance of the Supreme Court’s ruling. She spent six days in jail and lost a defamation lawsuit. Now, she’s appealing that loss — and for the first time, someone is explicitly asking the justices to overturn Obergefell v. Hodges, the landmark decision that legalized same-sex marriage nationwide.

Her legal counsel’s petition, filed just last week, argues Obergefell was “egregiously wrong” — the exact same language used by opponents of abortion rights to overturn Roe v. Wade. It’s not subtle; it’s a calculated echo of the strategy that successfully dismantled a half-century of precedent.

While many legal experts believe the Court is unlikely to take the case, the truth is that we’ve entered a political climate where “unlikely” no longer feels reassuring. The anti-marriage campaign is already here: nine states have either passed legislation to strip marriage rights or formally petitioned the Supreme Court to revisit the ruling.

Just last month, the Southern Baptist Convention — the nation’s largest Protestant denomination — voted to make overturning Obergefell a top priority. And Justice Clarence Thomas has already signaled his interest, writing in his Dobbs concurrence (the decision that overturned abortion rights) that it’s time to “reconsider” marriage equality.

The official line from experts may be that the odds are slim, but the political machinery is moving, the rhetoric is escalating, and the precedent for overturning landmark rights has already been set. The warning signs are there. And if history has taught us anything, it’s that when rights are on the table, they can just as easily be taken away.

Rights don’t just disappear overnight — they’re chipped away, one bill, one court case, one vote at a time. If you think this can’t happen, remember: people thought the same thing about Roe. Stay loud, stay informed, and don’t let them decide your future while you’re not looking.

[silentium-mentis]

me too elon.

[soul-from-another-era]

Unconditional love isn't a free pass to hurt me.

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— Nitya Prakash

[authenticity2025]

[vexheart]

Being sensitive is a strength—it means you feel deeply. But unkindness? That’s a choice, and a sad one.

[lunamonchtuna]

to be seen without performing. to be heard without screaming. to be missed without disappearing. to be enough without proving it. to be held without falling apart. to be understood without explaining. to be wanted without conditions. to be. to be.