quantity over quality on this blog

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quantity over quality on this blog
If a series is good, spoiling the ending won't matter because the entire story will have been a cohesive and satisfying story that can be re-watched and enjoyed many times. If it's good enough, spoilers won't matter.
But a badly done ending can absolutely ruin everything that came before it because all of that build up, all those themes, everything that happened completely falling flat and meaning nothing makes everything you did to get there feel pointless.
yes, if cooper had just explained the legion to lucy (among other things), then they wouldn’t be in this mess - but he thinks she needs to learn these lessons the hard way to toughen up, like he (probably) did.
he’s mentioned multiples times that he and lucy are the same, “im you. you’re just like me.” much to lucy’s chagrin. but cooper WAS kind and compassionate and a good-hearted person like lucy at some point. then over the course of 200+ years he learned that the wasteland is ruthless and unkind by having the kindness and empathy stomped, beaten, burned, and otherwise violently snuffed out of him. so he’s intentionally vague, setting lucy up to fail. he’s vague so he doesnt have to admit that lucy is right sometimes, that she’s as a valid a person as he is.
i hope i haunt you
i hope when you see orange you think of me. i hope when you see misplaced periods you think of me. i hope when you see words stuck together in the way i used to fondly say you think of me. i hope that when the door creaks open you're convinced it's my ghost. i hope that when you throw my ashes in the makati river with all the sewage and dirt and gross garbage you're convinced i've made a heart.
love is delusion
you only love when you see things that aren't there. red strings links pinkies but red strings make puppets move. does your heart beat with love or are you as nervous as i am when our arms bump against each other? it's just friction, it's just friction. heat warms you up and heat is red and it's not me falling for you
it's not true that's not real i only want you to think of me i only want you to treasure me i want to be cradled between your index and middle finger as you fold your thumb against your palm and point it under your chin
i want to run through your mind and stay there. i want to pick you apart and see your most vulnerable sides — those are metaphors, yes? i can't crawl into your ear and rest on the wrinkles of your brain. i can't run laps around your mind without losing my breath and toppling over.
if i can't be this close to you, then is it really love?
posting online feels very awkward to me because half the things i say don't have a lot of creative value they're just throwaway thoughts , the internet is my thought garbage bin essentially this is where i dispose of my brain