Claire Keane
Sade Olutola
JVL
Andulka
@theartofmadeline
we're not kids anymore.
⁂
Stranger Things
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styofa doing anything
i don't do bad sauce passes
★
wallacepolsom
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Kiana Khansmith
Love Begins
Cosimo Galluzzi
tannertan36
seen from Chile
seen from Malaysia
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Guatemala
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Türkiye
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
seen from Ireland
@theamalgamationblog
They should add PVP to plurality. I need to fistfight my headmates
luckily we still have discount pvp! its called 'someone in the brain is blasting white noise at 200% volume so no one can hear themselves think anymore' and it results in A Lot of People Yelling at You
10/10 would recommend
Narcissa & Apathy
‘But do you care enough to deserve it?’ says the silver snake,
Coiling around you with hurt in its eyes;
Its heart is so big and beautiful and broken,
A thousand shades of a million colours as it cries its heart out-
Every problem an insurmountable accelerando,
Every piece of panic transformed into opera,
Every joyous occasion reaching a shining pinnacle-
Before it crumbles into the pits of despair, a shimmering blue fog that lies on the floor of your home,
And as you walk through it, you see the imprint your footprints leave in the smoke, before that everlasting fog slowly drizzles back in to complete itself.
‘Do you care enough?’
And there you sit, having learnt over time,
That if you speak your fear like an orange flame,
It will spark and catch the fog alight,
And your home will burn in the snake’s fiery distress-
So you learnt to hide it, contain your flames,
Keep a shield of grey between your colourful palette,
And the sheer beautiful power of the snake-
And now, even your golden glow of caring, of wanting,
Has dulled to a pale yellow that you can barely even notice.
‘I will get it for you. If you care.’
And you say
‘No. I don’t care. I can’t care. I never cared. I don’t deserve it.
I never deserved it.’
And the praise and the love and the life turns away,
The snake going back to its own chorus,
To shower itself in its desires to fulfil the blazing glory of its heart-
You watch.
And you hope, that one day,
You will care again.
I've decided I'm going to headcanon every single character I come across that speaks to/argues with their own thoughts as plural now. Only exceptions are those whom are made excessively clear to not actually be speaking to an actual presence but their own self-doubt or whatever. If it's left up in the air, it's plural. I'm gonna hit them all with my pluralization beam
something that astounds me /pos is how every system i see on here has such aesthetic cool names for their systems. i’d love to hear any stories of how your systems got their collective names :3
(tags are for reach)
we went the real straightforward route and called ourselves 'The Amalgamation' cos. you know. we're a big mixture of different parts.
straightforward route happened with most of my crewmate's names too! 'Lea' got their name cos they were the Leader of the crew way back when; and 'En' is just a shortening of 'Sci(en)tist' cos he's the token organised person. plus i got 'fringe' cos i was always advocating for a funky asymmetrical fringe on the body lmao
we're usually good with naming stuff, but naming yourself is like. so much more- permanent? important? idk, we all just went the easy route and stuck with that, so hats off to all the peeps who managed to come up with actual names for not just themselves but their entire system. thats wiild to me. <3
'Most of the time'
Is always the victor
And 'easier to do'
Always comes in second place
But the 'sometimes'
That come on a dark night, as melodies pour through you from those tinny headphones;
That come in a museum as you see the ancient instruments that outpace many of the ones of today;
That come when listening to a symphonic orchestra- your heart wrenching not because the music is some sort of masterpiece
(in fact, the second violin just missed a note, and the french horn is decidedly off key)
But because you know it will never be you up on that stage.
Hopes and dreams that come through on a 'sometimes' can never even compete, forced to lie on the wayside,
Nothing more than a daydream, but even then you have
No time to dream.
(it could've been you up on that stage-
if it was a 'most of the time', so you could spend your days with your fingers dancing across the notes,
if it was an 'easier to do', so you didn't need to chase diagnosis after diagnosis to find out why the world of woodwinds has been closed off to you-
it could've been you.
but now, you sit in the aftermath, the silence,
an eternal performance of 4'33''
resting in the footnotes of your own life
just a dream. :||
Putting on tinted sunglasses for the first time in ages...
Plus I've not been the person furthest forward in months...
It's feeling like one of those shitty U.S.A. movies where the characters set down in Mexico for the first time, and the whole thing gets this exaggerated orange tint to show how different everything is. Dear existence; this is unnecessary symbolism. Stop it.
I’m aromantic- not because I can’t feel love, but because I feel too much.
My family, my friends- the world around me.
Seeing a bird on the wing, making its miniscule adjustments to have a perfect arc, a perfect landing.
Listening to a duet, with the parts melding beautifully with eachother, accentuating eachother in ways that would be impossible alone. One dancing in the wind, while the other keeps them grounded in the melody.
Seeing the hues of cracked glowsticks, a manmade rainbow of colours in the dark of the night- a hushed night, serving as the perfect backdrop for anything that dares to exist within it.
How could anyone choose to give all their love, to just one person?
My love doesn’t fit in my own hearts, why would I try to make it fit in theirs?
A million hearts, for a million things. A million days, good or bad, each with their own purpose in this silly little thing we call life.
No restrictions on everything that we can love.
how much of ur online presence is performative and how much is it u being u
baby every me is me, we are the mask and the wearer
idaelius - a new term i have coined
here is the carrd to read about it:
⋈
here are the the flags
and here is the the symbol ⋈
-
huge shout out to @mirroard, @panvampic, and @little-gender-trinkets. the monoconscious system flag (/concept in general) was a huge inspiration for me to finally make this term. would be cool if you could reblog; i can remove the tag if you want.
Respect
Sometimes, you think others are faking. You roll your eyes behind the screen, but keep your mouth shut. Who are you to ruin their fun, or otherwise to point out a deep flaw within their very being, a cry for help as their mind tumbles down around them, a product of a society who never cared for them?
Society is a cruel thing. We are locked within our cages, and shake our heads as we spot others in their prisons, unaware that our own hands are entangled in the bars that hold us back.
Unaware that we are left to be our own wardens.
Sometimes, you try to ignore that which you don’t understand. You don’t want to be ‘disrespectful’, so you pretend you are not on a world on which the Other exists. You do not even try to learn.
You don’t want to be ‘disrespectful’, so you show them no respect.
Sometimes, the only way to become respectful is through a twist of fate, in which it turns out the Other you tried to ignore, and the You that turned away from it, are one and the same. Then, finally, you learn. You Respect.
It shouldn’t have to be like that. And yet, we open that door, congratulating ourselves. Successful in nothing but widening our cage, making it to the next set of locked doors. Succeeding in nothing but looking at ourselves- never Others- as if we were the flat earth at the centre of the cosmos.
Even then, we do not look beyond the bars of our cage- we only recognise that which exists within.
i actually think maybe telling people “if you think you have DID, you probably do” might not be the best idea when it’s very easily confused with many other very similar disorders
i don’t hear this said about any other disorder so why is DID different?
if you think you have DID, feel free to use coping skills used for DID but i think you’ll find that those skills are the same that are used for PTSD/C-PTSD and any dissociative symptoms.
if you think you have DID feel free to do your research and/or if you have access to a professional go and bring it up with them
but i feel like (and don’t get me wrong i am pro-self dx) DID is just being treated like it’s a super easy disorder to “just know” you have and it’s not
I’m going to invite you to try on this different paradigm of multiplicity that IFS espouses and consider the possibility that you and everybody else is a multiple personality. And that is a good thing. I’m not suggesting that you have Multiple Personality Disorder (now called Dissociative Identity Disorder), but I do think that people with that diagnosis are not so different from everybody else. What are called alters in those people are the same as what I call parts in IFS, and they exist in all of us. The only difference is that people with Dissociative Identity Disorder suffered horrible abuse and their system of parts got blown apart more than most, so each part stands out in bolder relief and is more polarized and disconnected from the others.
Richard Schwartz, No Bad Parts
Parts surround me. They’re part of me, and I’m part of them.
It’s like a Hall of Mirrors- each is the same person, but with a slightly different perspective on what’s important. Each showing slightly different emotions, due to distortions in the mirror, distortions in what we can see.
As I walk down this hall of life, I change, and my reflections change with me. Most of the time, there is no distinction- we’re one and the same, our edges blurring together. Other times, our different opinions clash, and I’m left with the knowledge that every decision is Right, trying to then determine which one could possibly be Wrong as well.
People are complex creatures. Millions of neurones firing at once, an intricate ballet no more complicated than a computer, and yet is indescribable in comparison.
How do others have such strong opinions, not constantly backtracking on themselves? Its fascinating, imagining whether there’s something wrong with them, or with me. Perhaps its natural variation in the human population. It’s strange how people insist on classifying themselves by such superficial things as gender and skin colour, when each and every brain, each and every way of thinking, is astoundingly different.
Do other people also have this barrage of emotion, cancelling itself out as you try to disentangle the web, find out which part of you wants what, what their reasoning is?
Do they hear it, but simply push it to the back of their mind, favouring a certain part that is louder than all the rest?
I have so many questions- and yet, I will never have answers. Words are a fickle thing, that can never truly encompass what is really occurring in our brains, in the emotions of every person on this small planet.
We will never truly know what it feels to be in the brain of another.
They say that the eyes are the window to the soul,
But if that is true, then they must be made of one-way glass.
I know they’re looking at me, but are they watching?
Listening, but are they hearing?
I can’t see the emotions behind the glass, and I’m left wondering if there’s anything there at all,
Or if I’m just sitting in an empty room, trying to look comfortable when no one’s there to judge at all.
If I tap on the glass, will they respond?
How do I talk to a person I can’t see?
One-way glass, and a porcelain face,
Identical to all the others.
Am I like that to them too? Have I got that inscrutable poker face, or am I walking around with my heart on my sleeve?
I can’t decide which would be worse,
Unconsciously putting myself on display for all to see,
Or facing them, one-way glass to one-way glass,
Each one trying to see the other without letting themselves be seen.
I feel ears, though not my own.
Spreading and changing with my emotions.
I feel a tail, resting behind me.
I feel fur, coating my skin, and my hair feels unnatural in its absence.
Who are we, within our minds?
Can we change what we are, with merely a thought?
When is it too far?
...I see faces all around me, I see none. Do I know what my own face looks like?
If I imagine my self as something Other, will my sense of self conform to that thought, as it has no face to anchor myself to?
I feel stationary ears. A flat back, laying crooked as I recline over its bones. Skin that pulls taut as I stretch out my fingers.
When you pay closest attention to it, even the body you’ve known your whole life can feel alien. Can feel Other.
I can picture my eyes. My glasses. My hairstyle.
I cannot picture my face.
Where is my anchor to who I am? How fickle is it, this ‘identity’ that people claim to be unchanging, and yet it feels like I can trip it, reshape it, like the flick of a lever.
How much of my identity is real, and what else is just a Headcanon, a character derived from my own head? How many of my actions are simply willed that way in a bid not to be Out Of Character?
Who am I?
I know, and yet I don’t know the boxes I fit. All of them, perhaps. Or none of them. Either way, I’m unsure.
I feel what I look like, and I toy with the Other. The core of me stays the same, yet my Identity seems to be a whirling eddy of currents that coalesce around it, some that come and go like the tide, others that just bring shells and shipwrecks and interesting things- which seem fascinating at first, but then are gone, never to be seen again.
I am the same. I am Other. I am nothing, and everything.
I am me, and I watch curiously as my identity changes around me. Wondering if one day I’ll wake up, and Me will have drifted away. Leaving just my consciousness, buffetted in the swirling of the tides.
I want to talk, I want a conversation, Where 'I' fragments into the rainbow of 'we', Where instead of an apathetic 'I don't know', It's an enthusiastic 'yes', And a pained 'no', Each at the same time, and just as strong, and just as important as the other, Where I can shout like a maniac, And whisper in all the colours of the breeze, In all the colours of 'me'.
It's just me, just me talking, But society says I have to agree, With myself. It's so much easier, to simply agree, With everybody else. To follow the social norms, and the easiest path, And rush through the fragments to piece together a version of 'me'. My opinion. The only one I have. Is this apathetic, 'I don't know.'
Loyalty.
The look in one’s eyes when they’re sick of yours.
Loyalty.
A strength or weakness, i’m never sure.
Loyalty.
Something made to be broken, in their eyes.
Loyalty.
...but perhaps, as the tides change, and the people move on,
Maybe,
A few will stay loyal to us too.
