#Middle and High school memories

[animation-557-butterfly]

The Flock of Max (from the manga📕by NaRae Lee)

🪽Max, Fang, Iggy, Nudge, Angel, and Total 🪽

Maximum Ride is written by James Patterson

Mmi enjoyed reading the manga version, when I was in middle school and high school)

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

why is he in my fucking line of sight again it's been literal fucking years i can't stop shaking i am going to fucking throw up

[yourlocalsewerdragon]

revisiting this site every now and then to reminisce in how much it shaped me as a person and defined me as a literal child

[sealdeer]

its best to hang with kero in a well ventilated room.

[apollos-boyfriend]

i probably have some sort of dissociative disorder but i have a job so idrc about that rn

[mokeonn]

Fandom War Flashbacks

[purplehalnw]

I swear to God it almost feels like I have amnesia sometimes with how shit my memory is.

It feels like I wasn't truly aware of anything until high school. Like before then I was just a robotic husk going through the motions.

Middle school and elementary school almost feel like fever dreams because the the only thing I really remember from those times is that I hated myself and was lonely and depressed as fuck.

And whenever I do remember something specific from like middle school I think "wow that was only a couple years ago?" because it's so goddamn hazy that it feels like its been decades.

[dazzelmethat]

Long time no Bud. Wow the last time I made her a ref was 2018. I experimented some with her pallet. Unsure if I like the profile head but oh well, open mouthed anime inspired profile faces are notoriously hard for a reason.

Sigh. What am I going to do with her.. my writing conundrum workshopping in tags. My tag rant mentions plot related suicide and ableism (in relation to the zombie trope).

[marsixm]

no im not saying this is a unique experience no im not saying im uniquely worse off or whatever for this but its an interesting thing abt my life that i quite literally can never return to certain places from my past. like thats usually mostly a metaphor, or half true, but like for example the high school i went to was being remodeled as i went there. there are buildings i spent hours in ever day for years that just dont exist anymore, and it happened within like a year of leaving. the auditorium was even worse bc i first performed on that stage when i was like 4? its gone too. right before i moved out of my childhood home i had to move all the furniture around for a slapdash and disruptive remodel. everything is gutted and rearranged and looks different. id say barely it functions as a house but it was a hoarder house growing up, so the functionality is probably equal, except now i guess its empty instead of over-full. even the house i lived in w my friends was drastically remodeled into some kind of workshop when they finally moved. even the big tree in the front is gone. my grandmother's house had to be remodeled after it got flooded in hurricane harvey. the dance teacher & studio head i had for a decade died. like god damn the liminal spaces sure do be liminal (im sorry)

[creatingnikki]

So remember when our biggest worries would be studying for that chemistry exam and attending double math lectures on a Monday and facing our crush after having said something embarrassing and not having enough money to go to comic con and knowing we couldn't even bring it up with our parents and not being able to hang with the cool kids because forget a curfew the concept of even stepping out to chill didn't exist in our households and feeling sleepy during tuitions and wanting to bunk PT periods so we could sit in class and talk and beg the librarian if she could let is borrow more books than allowed and who should we invite to our birthday party and if our teacher will penalize us for wearing kajal and if we will score enough in boards to get into the stream we want and if we look old enough with all this make up to pass for an 18 year old so they don't stop us at the entrance of that A rated movie and if he was going to call back and if dad was going to yell and if our siblings were going to tell on us and if teachers knew what the book Fifty Shades of Grey was about and if we would ever make something of ourselves and if we would get pregnant simply by kissing and if our physics teacher would give us those 2 grace marks so we could pass the final and if it would rain heavy enough so that school would remain closed that day and if mom and dad would allow us to go on that school trip and if we would get to be on the same bus as our crush and if we would make in time to the canteen before all the samosas got over and if our art teacher would be okay with us deviating from the theme and if we would get enough friendship day rings and if we had enough bands for everyone and if we would defeat blue house on sports day and if our school was haunted and if we would be in the same division next year despite the shuffling and if we would remain friends and if and if and if. Trust me I would go back in a heart beat. Despite the bullying and despite the embarrassment and despite the lack of control and money and despite the borderline depression. I'd go back because whatever the fuck this is, this adulting, it's unbearable.

[avengerchuck]

Why are you awesome

All in a day's work, buddy!

[etteraths]

[moltenhair]

It's funny to be an adult who didn't realize they were queer until they were grown. Turns out those "crushes" on the cool boys weren't crushes. It was gender envy, but I didn't have the vocabulary to convey that

[creatediana]

"Six Simple Cinquains" - a poem written 5/30/2024, based off of an eighth grade teacher's poetry writing prompt

Five lines, 2-4-6-8-2 syllables, title-description-action-feeling-conclusion, respectively.

Image description: an index card with a handwritten rough draft in mixed red pen and graphite. The poem reads:

Caesar never wrote a paper on the Roman empire, so why do I still have to? Early September al- ready mentally—I'm transported by thought right out of late May. Eighth grade and junior year and just turned twenty-five— debris in a river, swirling, teaching. River- side Shakespeare, nine- teen-seventy-three fall- ing apart because I don't know how to take care of things I love yet as they get older, more fragile. My grandmother's book I read— only I have read in forty years. It sat straight as we lived our lives, it held its pages.

[zafiro-anyejo]

It's so cool how BCS was my last fandom. This show with all its nuanced characters and heavy-handed themes and love, love, love at the center of it all.

[cetoddle]

girls who are finally starting to realize why they can’t remember anything about their childhood