#sadlfkjasdl

[troglobite]

after extensive research, i can verify that 2002 was the BEST year for spongebob

LOOK AT THOSE EPISODES

http://spongebob.wikia.com/wiki/Timeline:2002

IT WAS NUMBER ONE! 

[troglobite]

don’t ever ask me to write about my family. ever.

me&mom&my dog are tight and love each other so much and it’s all pretty damn great. 

me and my brother are okay, we’re not close, but we get along now. 

me and my grama...used to be on better terms. there’s no arguing or hatred or ill-intent, i just can’t stand to be around her for a variety of very specific non-massive reasons. 

me and my extended family is nonexistent. and me and my dad is fucked up and also nonexistent with a shitty history that bothers me more than it should.

and if you ask me to write about the concept of family, i have literally nothing for you. i haven’t understood that concept ever. my family is my mom and my dog. that’s it. my brother might tie in sometimes. that’s it. 

my friends have never felt like family, as much as i have loved them. 

my community has never felt like family in more than a weird abstract way. 

being mixed race and so far removed from the outside world and never being part of Real Communities constantly leaves me feeling floating and unattached.

some of the greatest sources of my anxiety that i am not ready or willing to tackle yet (without the help of a mental health professional) come from ideas and things surrounding concepts of family and community.

literally just writing this, my body has flushed cold and my feet are tingling and i feel vaguely nauseous and panicky.

do not ask me to write about family in any capacity.

i can’t do it. it’s scary. it’s horrible.

i wrote about my immediate family (including myself) for a creative writing project in my senior year of high school.

i have never not once reread the work. i have never sought it out. i have mostly forgotten all about it. i would never take anything from it to revise or publish.

it was a purge and once it was done, it was DONE. i was done with it. fucking get out of here. 

that’s a marker of me at the time, of my headspace at the time, and literally thinking about it makes me feel infected or toxic. 

and now...i just

i don’t know how to write about family

that’s personal

I DON’T WRITE PERSONAL THINGS

EVER

things i can write about: home, familiarity, queerness, love, random storytelling, people in general.

things i can’t write about: me, family, mental illness, gender.

i just.

i can’t do it. i’ve never been able to do it. it causes me such fucking intense discomfort and i thought i could just pick something and pound out another poem but i’m basically afraid to start writing a family poem. i don’t want to touch this shit with a ten foot pole.

and it’s really. it’s really upsetting and intimidating.

and i’m going to have to end up workshopping whatever poem i end up writing. so i have to not only write it and turn it in, but then ruminate on it and expose it to everyone else in my class and then openly discuss it and consider it worthy of revision and publishing. 

and that’s just. never going to happen for me with a family poem. not without seriously intense and ongoing therapy. 

it’s not even like i was massively traumatized. i just literally have no conception of Family. and i don’t know what to do with that. and it’s scary and upsetting and it’s just.

like it’s fucked up and i’m suddenly really anxious and insecure about it.

fuck.