the carefree nature of how you treat your feelings is P-M-O-ing me off . weight those little heartbeats and put them all in a bag instead of trying to say they're not yours to keep
taylor price
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@zoewarning
the carefree nature of how you treat your feelings is P-M-O-ing me off . weight those little heartbeats and put them all in a bag instead of trying to say they're not yours to keep
oh im so cold . Grow up
chapter 2 , on loneliness
so it goes. you grow up being a weirdo, liking weird things, outputting weird things. a flawed view on how to do all these processes, and it's obviously your fault, is it not? your fault. maybe this year will be the one where you grab the bull by the horns, jump on, steer it towards everything you deserve. because you *deserve* it. it's your human right to be happy. it's your human right to be loved. it's your human right to be human. maybe next year. maybe you actually could've had that shot ages ago. when you were 8, when you were 10, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18. 19, 20, 21, 22, oh wow. you've really done this for so long, already, aren't you tired?
but, you're not lonely. tired but not alone. it all makes it so much harder. like smiling at customers when you just want to go home and cry. not like your eyes have any more tears to cry. Why are your eyes so big? So it takes more time to redden them thinking about you, my dear. every time you reach out, it feels so strange. stranger more to have it reciprocated. to have our words intertwine, our warmth shared. it's alien. it's scary. it's horrible. it's stressful. it's a feeling you want to die for and can never get enough of. to swing off the ceiling, our arms flailing about, to think this is all there ever was, it's pathetic.
the symptoms are all there. but it's like going into a burning building: nobody wants to do it, do they? you're just not salvageable enough for anyone to do that for you. you should do it yourself. nobody but you can do it. that's why you won't. it's so lonely. that's why you need someone to hold your hand, to guide you while you swim under into the dark. this crow and wolf play, this collar and cage, it's the only way you know how.
it's very lonely. no national identity to speak of, beyond the foods you like, the things you know, the injustices that make you wish you had never been born, the languages you speak; it doesn't really matter. you're you. and you're missing so many things. you're a set without instructions. a crooked tree. the one that was never meant to grow fully.
you make me feel like i'm not any of this. i'm not lonely when i remember you know me.
chapter 1 , on liking
it's pretty weird. you see something you like and feel it, don't you? your heart goes doki doki, your brain enters that state you're supposed to be using for when you're studying, you could even break into a cold sweat and get goosebumps, all supposedly involuntary reactions of the body and the soul. this has never happened to me for as long as i've been an adult, maybe. maybe not with things that matter, i mean. a videogame is meant to make you feel this, so it's whatever, when it does. it doesn't really matter. it doesn't count for what i mean, anyway. but it does, if that's a disagreement. it really does. play shadowbringers. it only costs the time you spend downloading X-Ay-Vee. No, liking is much more complex to me than that. I've never enjoyed normal things. It's always the bionicles, the girl cartoons. The metal bands, the emo bands. Pasta without meat. Walking barefooted. The animes that don't get phonk tiktok aura edits. The movies you find only if you search, specifically, "good horror movies" and mistakenly click on a blog from 2012, which was funnily enough, the same year it got an HD torrent on your favorite site. Coincidence. It has to be weird. Because I am a weird person, of course. I resonate with weird things. I struggle to Enjoy, due to the bug, the demon, the fungus of the soul gnawing at my every facet and drinking, mouth to metal, out of the faucet of my mood. I want to hear the boy singing like he's got someone playing with his Lovense TM, I want to hear the guitar like it's improperly tuned, distortion dial set incorrectly. The drums? I don't know about drums, sorry. You know when you hear it. Are they rushing, or are they dragging? Ohhhhhh. It all comes together. And then you tell someone you like it and they look at you like you've shitted on their porch. Because, it's weird, but you're the one liking it, so they can't say to your face that it sucks. You're so childish for this. But it's okay. We're all children on the internet. And even more so in real life.
It's immature. You're not supposed to *like* it anymore. It's an avenue for saying, how cool I am for enjoying this. Nobody memorizes their favorite songs anymore. Or just me. There's just no space. It all gets taken up by a single topic and a single train of thought, destination unknown; Do you like these things I like? Will you like me for the things I like? Is it okay if I like you, do you like that I like you? "bed-rotting" is a term that gets, rightfully, used for when you're feeling bad, and the machine that ruins your life is in your hands and you get to spend all day distracting yourself from this. Not me. My arms are cables, my mouth is a synthetizer. Everything is an amplifier to this horrible noise inside me. Liking and enjoying and yearning are verbs for the disc rot of my soul.
The stereotypes: I like Brainiac+Enon, My Chemical Romance+Bring Me The Horizon, I don't know what else do I like. Yesterday I fantasized about putting on a Kigurumi suit and losing the key.
prologue
scroll and scroll and scroll and think and don't do . it's pretty common and usual but the problem is when it encompasses your everything. you wait for the weekend for an opportunity to sit and think about how you feel and then spend the entire time doing exactly just that. it gets tiring! it's no way to live. metacognition doesn't make it any better. "oh it's so cool to be human, so nice to be intelligent, so *valid* and *good* to be alive like this," No. I reject it. It's bothersome. All my feelings brush against the walls of my veins like nails and grounded up magnets. you make a mistake then you think about doing it again. stuck in an emotional incest situationship with my own mind, all the bad feelings come to me clearly and all the good feelings get spiked with doubt and regret. an opportunity to show how good you are at this. an opportunity to make things better. maybe if you feel better you can make others feel better, too. maybe not. experience says you suck at it. what are you even talking about? this is not what shows up when you look up Love in wikipedia.
Shipping ethics controversy in fanfiction - Wikipedia
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