The Mind Matters

The unquieted thoughts of an undiagnosed queer boy trapped in a man’s body.

[festeiro]

[themindmatters]

Authenticity.

There was a time in my life I thought I was authentic. I felt everything that flowed from me was the purest representation of who I worked so hard to become; to distinguish myself from others, I needed to be ostentatious and proud of it. And I was.

I’ve found myself with people who would rather I conform; they seek to squash my authenticity, intentionally or not, because it scares them but they can’t be rude. They ogle it like patrons of a freak show, as if I were two-headed.

Lately I think maybe it’s because I am two-headed, and that is why they give me a wide birth. That is why there is a vail of insincerity in all my interactions. It’s the feeling that everyone around you knows something about you that you don’t know about yourself. The extra head I cannot see but to everyone else it’s the only thing they can focus on.

I am tired. I am bored of these nouns. I constantly battle between the right thing to do and the thing I need to do to avoid completely slipping into the madness of my mind; the madness of mundane mediocrity.

I have to get the fuck out of here.

But if not here, where?

[themindmatters]

I wish loyalty didn’t fuck me so hard.

I wish I wasn’t afraid to be too close.

I wish the people that I cared about cared back as genuinely.

I wish I could have said goodbye more instead of walking away.

I wish I could have made right before they left.

I wish I could have laughed more with the people I loved the most.

I wish I could see the positive in those I’m supposed to care about.

I wish I could remember all the bad things they did to me.

I wish I could stop running from the things that scare me most.

I wish I could show people who I really am.

I wish I could see who I really am.

[mournfulroses]

Oscar Wilde, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Oscar Wilde

[shisasan]

"you have both; they must never leave you."

[mournfulroses]

Mary Oliver, from a poem titled "The Return," featured in What Do We Know: Poems & Prose Poems

[mournfulroses]

Marina Tsvetaeva, from a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke featured in Letters, Summer 1926

[mournfulroses]

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, from a letter featured in The Life & Letters of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky

[mournfulroses]

Charles Baudelaire, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Charles Baudelaire

[chaosinthepast]

[themindmatters]

I’ve waited.

Waited in lines in coffee shops and subway stations. Waited for, what seemed like hours, to do more things than I care to think back on. I’ve waited for useless things. I’ve waited for essential things. I’ve weighed the ways in which I wait and determined that none are better than others. Sitting. Standing. Reading. Talking. Listening to music. Only one thing gets me through waiting. The simultaneous knowing and not know that the end will come. Ultimately isn’t this why we hate to wait? Because we have no control over time in those moments. We have no control over our destiny. Our lives, our precious time is at the disposal of others.

I moved to get away from the weight. But the weight found me. Heaviness has never been my friend. Weighted, gravity pulls me too close to the surface and I touchdown in a harrowing moment of reality checking in on me; you’re doing great sweetie

For years I’ve waited for the weight to wain but unwilling to wrestle with reality, I’ve elected to seek external sources of inspiration but, here’s the thing, magazines can’t make you skinny, and so you wait, weighed, weighing whether you’ll ever achieve that which you’ve never worked for.

Weigh that at the gates.

[steampunktendencies]

Saw this on Reddit with this question. Why don't our cities look like this?

[jessetaylor]

“Just because it’s not happening right now, doesn’t mean it never will.”

— Unknown (via help-n-quotes.com)

[themindmatters]

Seasons

Winter is the season of thought. You sit in thought and boil over thoughts, even while it’s so cold out. It’s the season of defence; a true test of the minds strength. It’s the season of self; self-reflection, self-discovery, selflessness. It’s the season of belief, and growth, but it is not the season of choice, or change. 

Spring is the season of change. It’s the season of renewal and second chances. It’s the most hopeful of seasons; the most naive; young, and therefore messy. Spring is an intermediate; a lull in ones life; the opposite of fall…. or, a euphoric instance, erased immediately from memory, but for it’s sweet, sweet new-born smell that greets you each year upon its arrival. Spring is poetic, and smooth. It flows and seduces you, but it is not your lover. 

Summer is your lover. It is your stage. It is you at your best, even if you look your sweaty worst. Summer is the season of aggression and fight. One summer can send you down paths that will determine your entire life. It’s the season of deep romance, and everlasting memories; the season for family, and building. It’s the season of endless nights, that turn into days and into nights again. It’s the season of fireworks and campfires. It’s the season of calm, unpredictable, bliss; the season you never want to end if not for the awe-inspiring technicoloured metamorphosis we call autumn.

Autumn is the season to fall in love. Our world changes to set a mood. Mother nature releases her natural hormones because she too is Falling. Autumn is the season of calm, and observation, and in that observation we discover and appreciate more beauty than ever before; in ourselves, in others, and in the world we live in. Autumn is the season of comprehension and compassion; of vulnerability. Like mother nature, we too show our true colours. Autumn is the season of passion, and intercourse. It’s about locking eyes with someone, and sinking deep into their foundations, filling them with something you’ve never given anyone before. Autumn is the season of death. Death of all the things that are weighing you down, and keeping you from living. You drop them, and you dwell on them only for the time it takes for them to hit the ground, for soon you know they will be covered in snow, and washed away, and those that have stayed you use, to fuel yourself and grow in the seasons to come. 

That’s all.

D.

[themindmatters]

I wrote this 11 years ago?!

[s-ensitivus]

[mournfulroses]

Emily Dickinson, from her poem titled "1188," featured in The Emergency Poet

[quietwingsinthesky]

the thing about being nonbinary is that you really do start to forget that other people have such strict walls around what is and isn’t allowed for genders. i thought we all agreed that we made that up. could you climb out of the cave real quick and feel the sunshine for a minute.

[callese]

refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

[growing-yet-into-magic]

Worldcat is my bestie and my one true love!! Not only does it tell you what library a book is at, but it also price compares different used book sites against each other for easy view! It's how I got Tarot For the Master for $10!!

[growing-yet-into-magic]

Oh, and since I have your attention: z-library (books and textbooks) and sci-hub (gatekept scientific journal articles.) I just ripped a textbook for class off z-library and snatched a required reading from sci-hub. Life is good and education should be accessible at every stage and station of life.

[mckitterick]

information wants to be free