something about memories

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@youngestmatcha
something about memories
How it started
How it started
How it also started
How it went
heartbreak high does NOT get enough hype. (or maybe it did at one point a while ago). the autistic representation is very good. very good at accurately depicting special interests, stuffed animals as comfort objects, sensory overload, and communication difficulties. not to mention the representation for selective mutism!!! as somebody who used to go nonverbal more but has now put up their mask farther (and pays for it after) it is really comforting to see. i started masking a lot more when i realized other truths about myself that made me a lot more different, and then dedicated myself to being a little more normal in every way possible. (i’m currently trying to do better at not doing that). quinni is kind, emotionally intelligent, creative, smart, and so multidimensional. she has a PERSONALITY and she is SO COOL!!! and she STILL STRUGGLES!!!! AND she is learning how to use accessibility aids for her benefit. ALSO she is played by an ACTUALLY AUTISTIC actress, chloé hayden. heartbreak high does an amazing job of making every character human and i love it so much
falling in love is so fucking stupid. everything on earth is glowing honey-bright. i am easily charmed by small things. i am obsessed even with the shadow formed by her eyelashes. i can't get over the magic of this: that humans can feel something like this.
and yeah in the history of humanity we still can't seem to talk about it enough. because i can tell you about it - about her - and it won't surround the experience. it can never be big enough.
i am feeling something people have maybe always-felt. who knows when the first person fell in love. i am also feeling something that feels new and silly and extreme. like maybe we're the first people to really understand it, truly.
i know the science of it; why her smell is so good to me (something about our compatible genes). oxytocin and whatever hormones. and still it is incredible - i didn't think my body did this kind of thing. i thought it was an invention of romance-book marketing.
things make sense that didn't make sense before. songs about how love is an addiction or possession or insanity. orpheus had to turn around, of course he did, i would turn for her too, just to see. my mom and i watch a rerun of a murder mystery; for the first time i understand the line he did it for love - instead of being trite, it feels like a genuine tragedy.
and of course i am feeling the same way millions of people have maybe felt and know i cannot write enough about it, that it won't quite surrender to poetry. why do i think i'm gonna be the one who can finally communicate this thing that resists definition so ardently. this girl in my kitchen, humming. who walked so casually into my life. this girl pulls the rain down from even a cloudless sky.
what i can say is that i feel something impossible, and stupid. what i can say is that nothing about this is unusual, and yet i am so caught in it that i keep waiting for some terrible evil - something so good surely must come with some kind of retribution.
we get high and watch zombies 4 (it's terrible). the main characters sing a song about love; how theirs feels wild and impossible. the kind of thing i used to think was insipid, bad writing. baby that's us, she says into my ear.
that's us, she says, but with us the true love thing is actually real.
how many times have you heard i want to kiss girls but it's scary. you have said those words, even. you flinch but you still do feel it - kissing men is easier, dating men is easier. there is already a social contract about it. a republican's wet dream; you had been socially conditioned to "know" what to do, even if it has never explicitly been described to you. the man and the woman get together, end of story.
you want women, of course. you want them, badly. and sometimes you wonder about that. is it because a man isn't real to you? this thing you have with men - is it only easier because you wouldn't have to change anything? your parents can pretend you're "straight", no matter how many times you exit the closet or say i'm at least half gay.
are you just... afraid?
because what if it's not true. what if kissing girls is just as easy - better, even - than kissing boys. what if dating girls means there's no weird subtle power imbalance; means that your life is full of laughter and love.
or maybe it's because if men don't find you attractive - well, okay, whatever. they can choke. you don't exist to make men happy, certainly. you can shave your head and let your leg hair grow out and dye your eyebrows because fuck what men think.
but what do women want? what if you try as hard as you can and you are not what women want? or worse - what if they do want you, but you have no idea how to treat them? certainly dating a woman is not dating a man; and you only have the manual (ha!) for one kind of relationship. everyone at this queer bar probably has kissed and hooked up and knows interesting positions to fold other women into. they've probably had sex in the bathroom and know where to slide their fingers into.
logically you know every body is different. there is no singularly correct way to have sex or kiss or love anyone of any gender. you know some people need to suck toes or do gymnastics or picture wife-roaches. so how hard could it be, really.
but you tell yourself - well, the dating pool is smaller. you have heard so many wlw horror stories from your friends - like their exes randomly appearing at a party, or the time three of your friends all accidentally dated the same person at once. and your lesbian friend warns you - wlw breakups hit harder.
and it's not like you're unhappy. you are happy, certainly. the man you're with now might genuinely be the love of your life. he paints his nails and likes bugs and treats you like a princess.
but still. in the late night, you feel your heart stutter. because what if it isn't really that difficult. what if you're just creating false assumptions in your head in order to fit a fear-based narrative. what if this is your internalized homophobia; what if it's heteronormativity; what if you're the only thing stopping you. what if those rules don't exist, and you're imagining scenarios so that you never take a risk.
what if.
every reread kills me a little bit more
reread and enjoy <3
via @swatercolor [insta]
This is the best tag I've ever received on a post, I think
FUCK. honestly just FUCK. We missed a very important day yesterday.
what was yesterday, cat?
I’m not missing it this year.
no, i understand the only way out is through, i know this and i am very familiar with the concept and i have forced myself through and through and through and through, like an arrow to an apple; like a bird to the air. i push myself through mesh and sieve and stormdrain.
i am saying this thing is like stone to me. i am saying i have taken a pickaxe and a plow and a chisel and a spoon to it and i have made no dent or scratch in the surface. i have pushed and pushed, sisyphus beside me, and still my skin gave before the stone could.
i am telling you if there is a passage i do not see or some kind of clever way to thwart this enemy i'll take it. i've been up down and sideways of it, i've whispered to it and cajoled it and sang to it. i have tended to it like a kitten and i've kicked it to the curb. i have exhausted all available avenues and approaches as are available to me. i'll do whatever stupid fetch quest or answer the riddles three. i am standing here and every part of my body hurts and the stone is unmoved. please. if you know how to resolve this, i'm begging you.
and still, you say. the only way out is through.
This looks like a street that my ex girlfriend used to live on in NOLA for college.
Accidentally wound up on "hear me out cake" tiktok, and I swear, if another one of these bitches puts down an at-most-unconventionally-attractive human man, Lady Dimitrescu or Nick Wilde/Robin Hood I am going to lose my fucking mind.
Saw one where the first person they named was Disney's Aladdin and I tapped out so hard I entered a fugue state and didn't regain full consciousness for like a solid hour.
Girlies giggling and gasping because they said their 'hear me out' was Gill from Finding Nemo, like
I'm so sorry, babygirl, but that's a hot fish. I know you thought you were being so controversial, but that is one of the most fuckable cartoon fish in existence. This is weaksauce.
A couple of new freaks I've been cooking up for a medieval horror comic I've been developing called Gallant. This duo consists of a monk contracted by the church to hunt devils and a very strange knight who seems to be following him around.
fuck it we ball <- neither fucking nor balling
Daniel Sloss- “Jigsaw”
[ID: subtitled screencaps of Daniel Sloss doing standup. He is a white man with brown hair, wearing a black shirt and holding a mic.
The subtitles read: “My best friend in the whole wide world is a woman called Jean. We’ve been best friends for about eight or nine years. A lot of people don’t believe it’s platonic, but it is. The idea of each other naked makes us both very sad. But we love each other, we do, we’ve just been together through most things.
Two months into my relationship with my ex-girlfriend, she was like, ‘Sometimes I feel like you love Jean more than me.’ And I was like ‘Baby, no! All the time!’ Every hour of every day I love her more than I love you. Because she’s put the ground work in. You don’t get to suck a dick and go number one, you sociopath.” /end]