Tomo’s Theory of Happiness
There will always be those who dare to brave the lightning’s glow
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Imagine an alien sharing a cool human fact they just learned like ”hey guys did you know that the silvery markings on humans actually aren’t true stripes? They’re called stretch marks, they happen when the human is growing fast enough to actually outgrow their skin, which is apparently something that just fucking happens to almost all of them at some point of their life.”
and another one is like ”wait so you’re saying humans don’t have stripes.”
”actually they do, but the stripes are invisible. There’s genetic code that’d give them stripes but they’re just the same colour as the rest of the skin. So the visible stripes are not real stripes and the real stripes are invisible.”
”I swear if you tell me one more weird human thing today I’m beating your ass.”
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uuuuuuu i have so many darius thoughts uuuuuuuu darius in suit and tie, darius wearing a turtleneck, darius fancy dinner date, darius casual cafe date, darius smiling fondly at u, darius smoking (because he does smoke and drawing smoke looks cool), darius blushing (jesus christ knows i’m weak), darius with his hair neatly parted, darius with a bedhead, etc. i’m going through a mind override
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i can tell i'm sleep deprived bc i just made myself cry about tutankhamun and i have, like, negative interest in the kid
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In case anyone wants some perspective on how utterly random triggers can be. I haven’t lived in a house with a garage door in four-ish years. Right now at this moment, I honestly can’t recall what they sound like, except something metallic moving and rather clanky.
There was one on tv. I wasn’t even paying attention to it, I had my headphones on and was actively trying to tune the show out. My ears picked up on the sound of the garage door, and a jolt of adrenaline shot through my body as I grabbed my laptop and moved to get out of my seat and run to my room.
I realized what happened after about two seconds.
The sound is gone from my ears, but my heart is still racing and I’m waiting for the door to the house to open, to hear the jingling of my mother’s keys and her footsteps moving through the house. My muscles are still tense and I’m fighting the urge to run to my room and stick a board in front of the door.
For years, the sound of a garage door was my warning to pack up what I was doing quickly and retreat to my room if I was out of it.
I can’t remember the sound of the garage door right now, but I can’t tell my brain to stop trying to react to it.
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A dating service where matching is based on people’s search history exists. You’re a serial killer. You go on a date with a writer.
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I had a dream that unless the teacher told us class was over, we were forbidden from going out the door. Our teacher was very forgetful, and maybe even malicious. After being forced to stay past sunset many days, my class decided we were going to break out every night. Eventually our attempts led us to discovering rifts in space-time where we could warp. So we never used the door. Checkmate.
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My aesthetic: when you take off your glasses on a highway and all the lights go soft and smudged, a trail of amber behind you like a quiet afterthought
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