#existential

[grlyn]

[mywingman]

Everything in this bar is wrong. That's why it feels right. #divebar #existential #undergroundcomix #art #mywingman 7/13/26

[grlyn]

[jonesnex]

i want something good =/

[mywingman]

Every few years I look at my rapidly fading youth and think, “Oh my God. I never figured out how to talk to chicks.” #washed #oldhead #existential #undergroundcomix #art #mywingman 7/7/26

[wanderingmind867]

When I think nostalgia, I think of someone who's at least 30, someone who's lived long enough to have things they yearn for. But no. I'm 21, and I yearn constantly. I feel nostalgic even for things I hate. It's surreal. In 2019 or 2020, I scarred myself looking up a horror show. I became afraid of sleeping for 12+ months, I'm nearly confident. Yet...I almost feel like I just wish I could go back there.

Grade 7 of Elementary School would be great to return to. That was around 2017-2018. I was 12 going on 13. Puberty was only beginning to hit me, and so I was still innocent in that way. I wasn't nearly as alone, because my mom was alive. My dad wasn't working. I still watched cartoons almost every day before school. It was cartoons or the news with my dad. I was...I didn't think it was particularly special then, but it feels more special as time passes. Losing my mom, losing High School, losing my old family doctor, growing up but never surmounting my loneliness and my dependence and losing my ability to read (since I can't focus on reading novels outside High School or Elementary School)...it was a magical time. A special time.

2017 or 2018 was around the last time I was a big fan of Rick Riordan. I stopped reading his new stuff in 2018, I'm pretty sure. I still read things he endorses, but I don't read his own books anymore. In 2017, I don't think I knew JK Rowling was a bigot. It was one of the last years I was reading her books, not yet feeling the guilt I do now over all this. I was actually at a stable point in my life.

In 2019, I had to leave elementary school and start High School. Since then, life has just been a constant struggle for stability. COVID took my stability. My mom's death made it worse. Losing High School (and my old family doctor around the exact same time)...well, all that has nearly broken me. I'd like to see someone else escape it all without issues.

So...that's my philosophizing done for today. It feels good to get it off my chest again. It's just nice to have that periodical release.

[crushthewiredwaysblog]

CW: suicidal ideation

All there:

To wake up and count yourself

all there. Wrists intact, throat quiet

Nothing taken, nothing opened

and still something missing.

Something has passed through in the night

not god

or, maybe god, but careless

brushing the inside of you like a hand reaching

for something else.

How can you go on

knowing the body can be entered

by absence like that?

How do you not press your fingers

to every soft place

wrist, mouth, the thin skin of the hip—

waiting for it to answer back?

Thinking:

if there is a door in me

I did not make,

if there is a place that can be opened

without my asking,

then what is stopping me from finishing the work?

But morning comes bluntly

light like a refusal.

The worst part is not

that something almost took you—

it's that it didn't

And you are left here

Untouched,

Holding yourself closed.