#Anchorite

[setthephaserstorot]

I think Anchorite is one of the best Car Seat Headrest songs ever. The way it essentially resolves the narrative of Twin Fantasy is so heartbreaking and the clarity he has for the relationship, even though he still hurts in the end is so interesting

[diduthinkihadforgotten]

every once in a while i get violently depressed over the fact that my life ended before it got to start.

i didn’t graduate high school due to early onset schizoaffective disorder. getting diagnosed caused me to be moved into special education classes in the last month of high school. i was short on graduating by exactly 1 chemistry class.

my mental illness is exacerbated by my physical illness, which i’ve had and known about since early childhood.

i’m in the process of getting SSDI, which, for me, means i’m not able to work an “actual” job. it’s only under the table work for the rest of my life.

i’m medically discouraged from learning to drive, so i can’t do shit like door dashing or instacart.

i feel kinda doomed to be a burden to my mother forever. i can’t help but feel like im disappointing everyone in my life by virtue of being disabled. i feel like i could’ve done so much more with my life. like i’m capable of doing more, although im simultaneously incapable.

sad.

[kieselsteinn]

it’s such a draaaaag

friendly fire on DROVEmycar

[tmbmtb]

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t taken all my notes on your rolling papers But when you burned them the scent came as such a bittersweet vapor I watched the flames silence the words I was given in life But if your heart was in it, I was glad to be your sacrifice

✯ Anchorite (Love You Very Much), Car Seat Headrest

[unbelievabelle]

its such a drag

[tonreihe]

A BBC documentary on Brother Walter Wilman, who lived as an anchorite at All Saints, North Street in York, England, for over forty years.

[jessethejoyful]

my two girlies side by side ❤️✨

[floristin]

[carebearskull]

caustic

volatile and hurtful.

don’t touch me, i’ll burn you.

people like me, babe,

are not meant for a beautiful world.

it’s all

bugs in the shower

sleeping on the kitchen floor

10 shots deep, faking humanity.

looking you in the eyes

like you could see i’m a scared animal.

beneath the wreckage,

at the end of the day.

you and i in the same fucking place.

we talk about moving back home.

talk about your son.

buying a mobile home up north

and diy-inh showers

for hypothetical daughters.

lukewarm water from the kitchen sink.

mud tracked across the floor.

dirty boots,

bed sheets cleaner than heaven.

parts of this place i have carved for myself.

little burn holes in your picturesque world.

smoking cigarettes in your parents living room.

acting like i have no excuse to feel

the way that i do.

turning a shoebox into a studio.

asking if i can repaint the walls.

saying that the lines on the paint

feel like teeth.

like i’m being swallowed up.

trying, forever fucking trying

to replace someone

who doesn’t need to be replaced.

paint over me like

blue stains on the wall from my hair.

cover me like uneven carpet,

closet skeletons masquerading as people.

text your girls about how

i put you through hell.

tell me, how is my suffering yours?

you don’t own me.

i am not some housepet

locked in your room.

left to riptearpull the stuffing from pillows.

you look at me and you see:

person.

girl-

condescending creature.

the type of sadness that isn’t quite poetic enough.

just a little too visceral to be beautiful.

smeared blood around my mouth

like a kid at their first birthday.

dark circles that Will Not fade.

you miss all of that.

you see a sick body, sicker mind.

frail being,

collection of shiny trinkets and addictions.

wounds that do not heal.

a mouth that will not speak.

i keep asking myself

what i must do to be seen.

like it’s some kind of sacrifice to ask.

like it’s a burden to you

for the bare minimum.

[lucyfishwife]

Sometimes filters make you look how you actually feel, in this case "how i feel after being made to go outside in the sunshine and now i am genuinely ready to kill the next person who says how lovely it is to be outside in the sunshine". I am indoors in the dark so it's all good

[ancientstuff]

Some viable reasons for why this anchorite might have had syphilis are given, which is good.

[diduthinkihadforgotten]

i’m not used to people caring about me in the way i actually need or want. babe, you scare me a bit. there’s a reason i fuck everything up before anything has the chance to be anything more than a pipe dream.

i start talking to her vaguely, drunkenly, about vulnerability. i crave it, but i can’t take it. i get it, and i get scared in the way a raccoon does at night when you shine a flashlight at it while its rifling through your trash.

i need it though. in that not-too-soft, but still there, somehow, against every odd way not a single soul has been able to replicate. believe me when i say i’ve tried. when i say i’ve told you what i want.

there’s a reason i do everything drunk. impaired. whatever adjective lets me view everything that happens as some sort of third party.

i care about you, but somehow not enough. somehow never in the right way. i compensate by romanticizing everything in the worst way. i’ll fixate on the terrible parts of everything and then fall in my version of love with it.

i’ll tell people i love the things i know im supposed to. your hand in my hair, the smile you give me when i make a dumb nonsequiter joke that isn’t worth the effort it takes to laugh. but if i were honest with myself, with anyone; i live for the parts that should be red flags.

i think of you pulling on my chain like a dog. your bruising grip on me in the club whenever i spoke to another man.

i tell her i’m the person everyone calls when people even remotely in my life have emergencies. i’d still pick up for everyone i haven’t spoken to since august. every time a spammer calls i answer anyway.

i couldn’t say what drives me to that. that desperate desire to be wanted. like an animal in a shelter, babe, i’ll do whatever if it means you’ll take me home and hold me close til you get tired of being what i need you to be.

‘it doesn’t take much,’ i tell her. i fall easy when i deem it worth it and boy do i fall hard.

i wanna say you’re different. some part of me says i knew it’d be like this, the opposing side says something about how i call bullshit on everything as some type of avoidance.

she tells me i’m a commitment-phobe. that i hide from everything except her son, who is the only human being on the planet who has never asked a damn thing from me.

(when i say im a dad, i mean for a year and 11 months i was the pseudo parent for a terminally ill toddler. i still mean it because now it’s been two years and change since i’ve been a functional parent for a kid who has no real mother or father.)

mostly because he lacks the words to tell me he needs more. everyone needs more than i can humanly give but i still give it willingly. who cares if you’re sucking the marrow from my discarded bones. i wasn’t using it anyway, right? i’m sure you need it more.

it’s easier for me to tell my secrets here. where i’m hiding in plain sight and nothing i say or do particularly matters so long as i string words together in ways people can shoehorn themselves between.

all this to say you do it different. it’s easier for me to detach myself completely and be honest in the way i know im supposed to when you’re a couple hundred miles away and more in love with the idea of who i am than the real self that always lurks just out of your line of sight.

you know i’m mean. cold hearted. some deep seated issues with intimacy buried so deep it’ll take one of my parents dying to ever actually address in any real or meaningful way. you hold my hand in the club anyway.

somehow you recognize the far off and terrified look in my eyes when my disconnected brain actually does the math on how many people i’m in a room with.

and you ask if i’m ok. you take me somewhere quiet enough where i can hear myself think and you hold onto my fragile wrists just tight enough to remind me that i live on this planet with every other bastard with two hands and a heart.

somehow you recognize a different lilt in my forced laugh when i’m poking fun at myself and theres something behind your eyes that betrays a level of care i never expected or saw coming from you. you look me in the eyes just enough, with just enough callousness that i do believe you when you tell me, perhaps begrudgingly, that you care whether i live or die. that you like my company.

she tells me you’re perfect and i suspect for a moment that she also knows me better than i’d like to acknowledge. i understand from her perspective. i understand from my own if im being fully honest. she says that the way you spoke about me, half asleep and half drunk, wrapped around me like you’d die if you took your hand off of me- no chance you thought this was anything other than exactly what i needed.

in spite of it all. every year that’s passed, every poorly received joke, every drunk phone call, you’re still here.

she says you were obviously waiting. that you aren’t disappointed by what you got after all of it.

but you’re here. after everything you’re still here. your head on my chest and my hands on your shoulders and i don’t want to ever be anywhere else.

i can’t shut up about you, you know. i play coy with my family. tell them i’ve got a musician friend in the desert with curly hair and a penchant for off color jokes. tell my friends i need to make you my wife and refuse to elaborate when they inevitably ask for details. you know better than anyone i like keeping my secrets.

somehow you’ve managed to figure me out. the important bits at least. the parts i try my hardest to hide. there will be time for everything else later.

[lotuskks]

Adaptation and Survival: Lessons from Nature

The content explores the contrasts between humans and animals in adapting to their environments. It highlights how humans have evolved to create comforts and conveniences, such as modern housing and transportation, allowing them to thrive globally. However, it questions the sustainability of a lifestyle disconnected from these modern amenities, suggesting that such isolation may be less practical…

[teriyakichop]

Ceremonial Regalia specific

I like to make sure that Anchorite clothing is as accurate as possible, while also putting my own little spin on things. Yuliyrel is a Vindicator that wanted to embrace the light more, she wanted to understand the light more. So she studies the ways of the Anchorites. To the left is the default Anchorite Regalia. TRP wise, what Yuli is wearing is an Anchorite Ceremonial Regalia. Basically, it means that she is ready to learn the next step. To "Graduate" as they say.

[momoguido]

I know that I would go insane if I actually had to live as an anchorite.

So why does it still appeal to me so much?

[cora-illus]

Some Ninth House facepaint lore/design headcanons I drew up while working on my last piece :]