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Calappa lophos

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what’s there not to understand about hypomania? you know when you get overtired, and like a toddler, you get all hyperactive and also want to cry or do Every Fun Thing you can think of and it actually becomes harder to sleep? like as a result of too much overwhelm or being so emotionally exhausted that’s how your body makes you able to cope, the aftereffects of too much adrenaline? just imagine being stuck like that. and every day it triggers itself more, overload of emotional whiplash and energy and you’ve lost all ability to think rationally and you can do anything at this point, because why not? you’ve got nothing left in you to hold back on any idea that could be exciting and stop you from falling into the void where the wiredness you feel has nothing to latch onto to burn off that nervous energy in a positive way, emotionally. for days or weeks or months on end. you don’t need to have ever experienced this fully to extrapolate and be like. yeah. I can see how it would suck eventually to get stuck like that

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[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'There's a petition to ban conversion therapy in the EU' to Cas' 'I love you'. /End ID]

If you are a citizen in the EU please sign this petition:

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Hesitation - [May 30th, 2024]

I’ve been waiting a while to hear you say it. Something, anything close to the things your eyes see when you look at me. Not as far as an “I love you”— just something simple, like you think I’m pretty, or you like the way I look back at you and when my stare lingers just a little too long.

I know what you want to say, but you always seem almost scared to compliment me, to actually say it. I see the words trapped between your teeth, small things you could never say outside of the church confessional, the priest hidden from your view so you don’t have to look him in the eyes. Nothing more than an anonymous audience who tells you to pray harder to his own God.

Admitting you like me is like an admission of guilt. You want to, but you’re holding back. I can see it in your pauses, and the brief times you do let your feelings slip through the holes of your inhibition; when you call me cute and ask if I ever really wanted to leave, if you can put off going home to stay in my car for 5 more minutes.

You’re giving me a suffocating desperation. The comforting kind of pain. Pain that causes hot blood to pour out of your wounds and cover you until you never feel cold again. I want your attention for the same rush of dopamine I get from a fresh cut.

When August starts to eat us in our intertwined entirety, maybe I’ll have had the courage I didn’t have in May. Maybe my hands will lose their callouses and I will have learned to accept devoutness that doesn’t turn violent.

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running into a trans girl while you're out and about makes the entire miserable errand worth it, whatever it was. like glancing upward at just the right time to see a shooting star. I spot a trans flag and it sincerely ceases to matter that the bus is crowded and it rained unexpectedly and my shoes are soaked through and my headphones are dead. I am happy to be on that specific bus on that specific day, because you're there too.

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Girl-God

Inside me there's a girl

She lives in the hollow cavity of my decaying chest, nestled between my second and third rib.

I've kept her there for twenty years.

Her restless hands tap imaginary drum beats on my heart, and her matted hair gets stuck in my lungs

She's a wild little thing, mean and teary eyed, full of fear and anxiety, and all the raw emotions of the scared child that she is

She used to pilot this vessel, make our every decision. Now I do that.

I did not kill the girl, no matter what others may tell you.

I keep her well fed and warm, tucked neatly to sleep in the cavern of my carcass

She's very happy there.

I did kill the girl, what you've heard is true.

I strung up her bones like garland round my bedroom, and shredded her viscera between my sharpened teeth.

Injected her with poison from a vial and watched her wither into something far more fearsome.

I savored every last second of it.

Now I make our decisions. I look upon the world with tired eyes, and I see what she could not. After all, the girl was bound by anxieties, by the limitations of God.

Now I am God.

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🇸🇰 strava a úžas 🤩

🇷🇸 strava i užas 😱

(🇸🇰 food and awe) (🇷🇸 dread and horror)

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when I'm sad I get so fucking poetic

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I’m on far right 💪 !!!! Love so much

Since I recently finished the entirety of tma I figured it'd be cool to revisit a drawing I did a while back where I asked several friends what entity seemed cool and drew them as avatars. This time though, I went along the lines of "What fear are you more afraid of that you overcame or only somewhat overcame?" Essentially this time going with he fears that would take them instead of them being more likely to willingly go with the entities they chose.

There's also a few people missing from this picture in comparison to the old one since with this drawing a few of the friendships I had when drawing before are currently on the fence or are just gone completely, so I just went with the people I didn't have any issues with for this one lol.

And, I do want to give credit to WishyFishy on Instagram/Twitter(X??) for the flesh flower designs. I was having trouble figuring out how they'd work initially, but really wanted them for the friend who chose the Flesh, so I figured I might be able to find something to reference, and I ended up finding WishyFishy's art of the plants! So props to them for making some banging plant designs.

(Uncensored version under the cut)

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Vivisepulture - [6/23/23]

None of this is easy. I can’t stay, yet I can’t walk away. Walking away would crush me, as if I was being buried alive. The dirt upon me, heavy and slowing down my every attempt at escape. The more I struggle the more it piles.

I cough, more, and more, and more. The ground you walk on itself is in my lungs. I keep thinking, “I’m going to die,” but I don’t. I am suffocating but the same force killing me is keeping me alive, prolonging the anxiety and the hurt. And the coughing.

All I’ve inhaled is the dirt but what comes out is smoke. For what feels like an eternity I continue to go through the achingly long process of dying without death, and I come to the conclusion that maybe exhaling is always easier than inhaling.

The pain is stabbing and burning and aching. I feel my body giving up. I feel my brain giving up. I have given up. I’m tired of fighting. Does giving up help? No. Does the suffering stop? No. But now all I can do is lay here. I’m still here yet the world continues to spin without me. I am completely alone, no one knowing of my predicament. Life goes on without me.

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Getting compliments on my writing makes me go insane btw /pos

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[ Aug 30th, 2023 ]

I am drenched in honey and sweat. Every single thing that hits me sticks like it was attached on me all along.

I am drenched in memories and music and the sadness left by nostalgia. I don’t look the same because I’m not the same, anymore. But the hair I cut off lingers, the friends I cut off still live within me, and the thoughts I tried to cut out remain alive and well.

Showering gives me clarity. For once my skin isn’t heavy. There is color in my face, in my hands, and the pain lessens.

When I get out it comes back. Honey, and sweat, and memories. Seeing my body in the mirror brings it all back and I spiral again until I can bring myself to wash it off.

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[ Oct 17th, 2023 ]

I want to become so small that I am nothing but bones. I want to disappear and I want to do so in such a slow manner that nobody seems to notice.

As I fade your memories of me do too. Your worry is a fleeting thought. When you blink I’m gone.

I wish I could put something in my place. I don’t want you to lose me. I don’t want you to feel the pain that comes with my own pain.

My dreams and my nightmares are colored in white. I can’t feel the needle in my arm anymore, but I would if it was gone. I am completely, utterly, numbingly alone, in and out of my own body.

My obsession has isolated me. I can blame no one but myself. Deep down, I know full well that what got me here was my own choices.

My heart hurts when it beats. Laying down makes my bones ache, but what other choice do I have when I can’t move? I can only imagine what walking would feel like, now while I’m on Death’s doorstep. Collapsed.

This is what I wanted, but I’m still scared. The stillness and slowness that hangs in the air is suffocating when I’m immersed in it like this. I wish this feeling could scare me into getting better, but it still hasn’t. All I can do is keep going, keep going.

There will be nothing left of me soon. You will not miss me. I wish you would, but I can’t watch you go through that pain.

Please let me take my pain to the grave.

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Still think it’s funny that Will Graham asked Hannibal’s THERAPIST if he’s in love with him, brother he was penetrating you in his kitchen while you moaned into his shoulder like a whore???

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“I’m not worthy. I’m not worthy.”

Your love for yourself has rules. You don’t particularly love yourself normally, but every time you mess up is just another thing you hate yourself for.

Every mess up is your fault. The overthinking, the waves of thoughts in your mind- they’re so uncontrollable and inconsolable. Maybe it’s not your fault, but you could’ve done better, right? You have to apologize for your own faults, right? You can’t expect an apology without asking for forgiveness first. And even then you probably won’t get it.

Every situation you find yourself in runs through you. You can’t ever have a conversation, because everything you say is picked carefully, and then you think about the response… how you would respond then… so on and so forth.

You delete the message in your drafts. You feel worthless for a while. You spiral over nothing, over everything. And fuck do you hate. But you refuse to direct it at anyone else, so once again you take the fall. Being angry is bad, it’s how fights are started, it’s how you get painted as the villain.

Everyone around you is begging you to see the things they do but you can’t. Or you just refuse, who knows? Because it’s your fault you hate yourself. You could improve but you’re not. You could try to love yourself but you don’t, so it fuels your hate more.

Loving yourself just feels so punishable, so horrible, because you know yourself better than anyone, right?

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I also love crabs and rocks!!! I am so happy to be finding my people ;-;

YEAHHH!!!!! Crabs r my special interest 🦀 one of my favorites is the umbrella crab. And tuna crab :]

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https://www.earth.com/news/new-deep-sea-crustacean-species-discovered-in-the-bahamas/ [Monokuma voice] A creature has been discovered