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Valentines day coming up i am alone i have reservations to eat some really weak poison alone at a restaurant to slow me down

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do not joke about the advertisements, do not engage with the advertisements in witty fashions, do not, fucking, mention the contents of the advertisements. as soon as an advertisement enters your mind, you kill it, dont care how cute it is, take it out back and shoot it. install adblock, ublock, mute the volume, look away, turn off the monitor, cover your ears, paint over it. evolve your mind, your modality, your instincts, to disregard the stimuli of advertisements before you can even process it. whatever it takes, you do not let them win. and thats an order.

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*grabbing you by the hair while you are blindfolded and kneeling* no damnit, thats the phillips-head screwdriver, you can tell because its vibrational aura is two waves, the yin being a half cycle out of phase. try again. place your fingers into the toolbox again, but this time feel with the spirit, not the body

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boobs are looking more boobular lately. really need to knuckle down and gain 20 pounds

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me: hey can you go deliver the rent checks

my roommate: ok

my roommate: *walking to the mail slot but hears me giggling from inside the envelope*

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me: hey can you make some coffee

my roommate: ok

my roommate: *hears me giggle from inside the kettle when they turn it on*

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me: hey can you take out the trash

my roommate: ok

my roommate: *carrying the bag but hears me faintly giggling from inside it*

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do you think god approves of what you have done? of what you have brought upon the world?

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I don't think spiky isopods are talked about enough

(Source-Macro photography by Nicky Bay)

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“Every day, the person who might have been Isabel Fall sees friends who tore down her story and speculated on her true motivations and identity go on with their lives. They are not stuck in the events of January 2020, like she is. These friends don’t know who she is. Probably. She doesn’t know how to talk to them about it, and to confront anyone about their role in the chaos would require outing herself. She says only one person has reached out to apologize, via Clarke. “It ends up with groups of people I thought of as friends all assuring each other they did nothing wrong … and I do not even know if they know it was me,” Fall says. “Or they make vague statements about how they are thinking of everyone harmed by the mess around the story, including the author, as if that mess were an inevitable result of publishing a flawed and problematic story: as if the solution was simply to employ even more sensitivity readers, sensitivity readers who agreed with them and could change the story into something they wanted to read.””

— How Twitter can ruin a life, Emily St. James

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Spaghetti & Meatballs (x)

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tiny death roll

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getting a huge syringe of stuff injeted into me by Dr. Girlfriend

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the phrase “traps are(/n’t) gay” haunts me. like its so interesting because whats being positioned here isn’t whether the transmisogynised is themselves gay or not but, due to the abject position imposed, whether you are gay for fucking them. no internality is presumed of the trap, no agency. you fuck the trap, are *you* gay? not by force of any relationship to it- but does it leave a kind of residue on you, does it fag you up? though darkly, what we are asking here is are traps, in their social exile, contagious?

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im to mental fucked up where the yuri manga where theyre sweet and hug each other is 10x less romantic to me than the yuri manga where they punch and pee each other