#queerodactyl

[starfall-isle]

Just found you and I'm love

Aaah thank you so much!!

[home-stuck-universe-blog]

It’s not the sunlight fading in through the open window, or the ocean crashing passionately against the submissive shore.

It’s not anything.

It’s the absence of any light, not quite the presence of darkness and not quite nothing.

It’s not empty and void, numb and cold, and it’s not so full of space that you’re suffocating and choking and there’s no room to exist.

It’s not anything.

It’s the silence. Not tense silence or awkward silence or comfortable silence, it’s deafening silence that overtakes you and controls you and it’s screaming in your ear but you don’t know what it is. It’s not any sort of noise, it’s a negative photograph with no subject and it’s there. It’s there. Always. In your head, screaming but not screaming, the scream that gets caught in your throat and never comes but you can hear the ghost of it in your mind, the illusion of help that will never come.

It’s not anything.

A young man is writing. He is writing, his pencil etching deep into the recycled paper that has probably passed through so many hands and they’ve all touched it and he is sharing this memory with them, the memory of this meaningless paper that came from a tree and became so many things, so many things that it became and so many things that it will become. He is not concentrating, or trying really at all. He simply doesn’t care. This isn’t his life’s work, he began when he was ten but it was never work. It was always just a drifting thought, floating harmlessly by, taking the form of a word or a phrase, and so he wrote.

He wrote until the sky was slowly poisoned until her single bright, beautiful eye, shut itself into a temporary sleep, because the poison was never enough to kill her and it was always just enough to make you wonder if maybe this time it would. Maybe this time she would never open her eye again. But she did, and lady night lay waiting yet again. He wrote still, and he knew that he would never be finished that he would never be done that no matter how hard he tried (which he didn’t) he could never be complete. And so he lay down his pencil and gave in. He gave in to the thoughts that he held at bay because this was his purpose, to write. And when he could no longer write, he no longer had a purpose. He was simply the messenger, the passage, and there always came a time when the door was too worn to use and it collapsed in on itself and you could lock the door but it wouldn’t matter because it could no longer allow entry. Because really, is the door still a door if you can’t go through it?

He was just tired. So, so tired. He couldn’t fight back any longer the demons that tugged at him and pulled and pushed him every which way and swallowed him and devoured him inside out until he was just a shell. A passage. A door. So he gave in. He collapsed in on himself and hated himself for allowing it to happen. He hated himself for being weak, for being nothing, even though deep in his mind he knew he had no right to hate himself when he knew that nothing was all he would ever be and all he would ever have. Those words weren’t his, he was just the messenger. The mailman does not own the mail. His body wasn’t his, he did not buy it or create it. His mind wasn’t his, it was the demons’.

And there came that silence, that finally drove him to the edge. The edge where his demons waited, taunting and teasing, drawing him closer to his fate. This was always his fate.

All that he had was the gun in his hand, the object that would inevitably bring him to his fate. He held a lighter in the other hand, and a will to use it.

As his life slipped from his grasping hands, his empty eyes stared straight ahead at the beautiful mess that he had created. The flames, glowing deeply and brightly, licking at the paper and devouring it whole. Devouring it like the hungry demons had devoured him, without remorse and without fail, moving on to its next victim swiftly. The fire engulfed his room within the hour, and though he could not stop it, it had gone too far, too fast, the young man wept. For his writing was a message that would never be received, that nobody would ever lay eyes on, it was as if it never existed.

It’s not nothing.

It’s not anything.

[lesmiserabelles]

queerodactyl replied to your post: at first when i saw these in the 99p s...

idk why but i love synthetic apple smell

well then oh boy would i recommend this product to you!!

[deadcantdraw]

queerodactyl replied to your post: you know what always annoyed the shit ...

i always just confused about why they seemed to be so okay with life not being fair. like why shouldnt it be fair??

I know right?

Like I get that life actually isn't fair but the idea of just telling children to deal with it rather than improve things is just? 

[missjacksoninthemorning-blog]

queerodactyl replied to your post:alexrenaudofnightvale said: // same actually ...

hmm yeah, those apologies do seem a bit half arsed. and the fact that they didnt even see anything wrong with that “joke” until ppl called them out is very concerning, i mean its not exactly subtle

//yeah, seriously. they're more "sorry you got offended" than "sorry we made a disgusting joke out of a huge part of our fanbase" and i think the smirk was what put it over the edge for me

i hope they find out who wrote that story and kick their sorry ass to the curb

[missjacksoninthemorning-blog]

alexrenaudofnightvale said: // same actually

queerodactyl said: oh, how come?? did they do something?

//Cecil Baldwin in particular. The last few posts on my personal blog, plus this post, will do a better job of explaining than I can right now.

[deadcantdraw]

queerodactyl replied to your post: How much I don’t remember stuff is get...

im the same tbh. i remember in high school once we had to write about an event from our childhood and everyone was writing these super detailed stories and i literally couldnt think of anything

Do we just lead very boring lives? 

[lesmiserabelles]

queerodactyl replied to your post:hey so i went to see ‘boxtrolls’ today and i just...

yeah ive seen other posts about this, im very disappointed, i was looking forward to that film

ah i wish i'd seen those posts so that i'd known to avoid it because really i'm not happy about having given money towards such a Bad Thing (sighs) and yeah it looked like it would be so good but no no it was all lies