#Nothing Left Inside

[lumber]

It's Sunday. Let's go to the comic shop and dig. 🤘🏼🤘🏼🤘🏼

[rastronomicals]

7:55 PM EST December 11, 2024:

Black Flag - "Nothing Left Inside" From the album My War (March 1984)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

Only 20 years ahead of its time.

--

[mairyonacross]

🫠🥴

*via Instagram

[she-might-be-a-demon]

I don’t write on here often but I don’t really have anywhere else to go.

I’m disabled and very mentally ill. Same as a lot of people, but I feel like I never get a good day. It’s always “you need time to heal, give yourself a break”. I feel like all I’ve been doing is resting and it doesn’t seem to make a difference. I’m constantly trying my best to get better and the second I think I’m making progress it’s something new.

You need to go to the ER. You need to take these medications. You need to rest. You can’t go to work. You need to pay these bills. How can I pay the bills if I can’t work? How do I make progress if all I can do is lay around waiting to get better? When will I get better? When will anything get better? How can I give myself a break and be more gentle with myself when I grew up around so much negativity?

“My child is not special”. “You just need to try harder”. “You’re a child, you’re not in pain”. “Stop lying”.

“You’re a teenager, of course your body is going to hurt. You’re growing. Just take more pills and you’ll be fine”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. Stop being dramatic. I go through way more than you and I’m still working and not bitching. There’s nothing for you to be depressed about. You have it so easy”

No. I didn’t. You neglected me and I was forced to be an adult as a child. I raised more children that I can count. I drove the van at the age of 12 because you were drunk at the bar on a Wednesday. I was parenting my parents. Nobody ever believed my pain and now I’m 21 unable to work because I was so ignored that I got no help. There is no help. There is no medication. There is no cure. There isn’t anything I can do to fix any of this. “I’m sorry, doctors don’t know enough about your problems to help you. We can no longer help you. You can try this medication for these other issues but they are not for you. You will trip out until there’s no color left in your eyes. No doctor will contact you to tell you to stop taking these medications and you will have life long side effects.”

Stay positive? Ive been seeing creatures crawling on my ceilings since I was a toddler. The walls are breathing and hands are touching me through the walls. I’m seeing faces in trees and the shadow figures look at me with no expression. Why do I feel their pain? Why do I wish I was dead? Why did I pray to a god I didn’t believe in just because I was told he’d save me one day? Why haven’t I been saved? Why was I lied to? Why am I like this?

“Why dont you hangout with friends?”

What friends are you referring to? The ones who left because they couldn’t handle hearing how badly I wanted my pain to end? The friends who used me for my money because they knew I felt the pain they were going through and they used me until they were better off without me? The friends who couldn’t understand what having DID is like? The friends who fell in love and couldn’t be in my life unless they had me to themselves? The friends who made me sacrifice so many parts of myself until I couldn’t see myself in the mirror? What friends are you talking about?

“Where’s your family in all this?”

The alcoholic, pedophile, narcissistic, manipulative, victim complex, emotionally unavailable, physically abusive, neglectful, egotistical, strict Catholic, compulsive liars, ableist, homophobic, boomers, divorced parents that couldn’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves?

I left at 17. My mother was stealing from me and my family didn’t like that I was the “black sheep” of the family. I need no Shepard for I am not a sheep.

I started from pennies in my pocket. No car. No home. No job. No knowledge of anything other than what my family programmed into my brain to be a slave to whatever they needed me to be. I had nothing.

I’m supposed to be happy? Positive? Hopeful? I slept in a wooden toy chest hoping I wouldn’t wake up as a child . I was so little. Nobody believed a goddamn word I had to say. I’m severely traumatized and disabled.

I’ve been with my partner of almost 4 years who I jokingly gave the name “caretaker” in my phone just for it to unironically become the truth. I feel so much guilt for needing someone to take care of me and help me with everything. I hate that I’ve taken away so many chances for him to have a “normal” life.

I’ve put him through so much shit and he’s still here. It took me over 3 years to get therapy. Only after he broke up with me because I was planning my suicide. He himself was suicidal and didn’t say anything because he didn’t want me to feel bad. He cared more about me than himself and I hate I put him in that situation. He loves me everyday and I can’t seem to love myself for a second. How does he do it? How does he look at me and see love after everything we’ve gone through?

How do I keep going knowing I’m taking away his chances of having a good fulfilling life? Probably won’t get married because why waste money on someone who’s more than 95% going to kill themselves when the time comes? Won’t be having kids because who wants to pass on so many disorders and disabilities to a child? Why adopt just to be shamed for taking in a child when you can’t give them a normal life being a disabled parent?

I’m positive I make my therapist uncomfortable because I can’t seem to go more than two days without talking about how easy everyone’s life will be once I’m gone. “They will miss you”. They definitely won’t miss hearing me bitch about how shit my life is and how there’s nothing i or anyone else can do to help me or fix me. They won’t have to help me with everything. They won’t have to worry about me at all because my body won’t be an issue. My pain won’t be relevant. They will have such an easy life when I’m gone.

I was writing suicide notes at the age of 9. Writing to myself on my birthday because who tf cares about the stick bug you call a girl. The pale and frail. “Look, I can wrap my hands around your waist and my fingers touch.” Awesome having everyone carelessly speak about my size and furthering my eating disorder.

There is nothing for me to look forward to. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel. The grass is not greener on the other side. The roses do not smell sweater. The water will never sit still. Everyone leaves and I hop on the pity train with my fucking clown shoes.

“You are dead to me.” “You are a selfish person.” “You aren’t important, I already replaced you.” “You have zero direction.” “You’re going nowhere.” “I hope you hurt every single day until you rot alone.” “You’re a coward.” “You’re a dark rain cloud with nothing good to say.” “You’re just as angry as your dad.” “You play the victim just like your mom.” “You’re a child.” “You let everyone take advantage of you.” “You will be temporary for everyone who comes into your life.” “You will never be cured.” “Do you know how easy it would be to get rid of your body since there’s nothing there.” “You’re so easy to take advantage of.” “ There is zero empathy in your body.” “ You’re dying anyway.” “You’re so fake.” “You can’t even be a person.” “You’re so lost in your delusions.” “I don’t think you’ve ever told the truth.”

Things I’ve been told by people who “loved” me. By family. By friends. By ex bestfriends. By coworkers. By strangers. And I’m supposed to just get over it? I’m supposed to move on? I just need to move past all that? There is nothing to save me from this.

I’m a burning fire waiting to be put out. I’m choking myself out with my own thoughts. I’m smoking everyday hoping my lungs give out just for my ribs to be pushed to the surface until I can’t sit still. The bugs under my skin whispering the things I’ve been told on repeat for years.

It will never change. I can never change. The change I make is irrelevant to anyone because they see the same depressed girl who gave up so early in life and has no direction. I will make it nowhere in life except the cemetery I sit at alone because there’s nobody there to shame me. There’s nobody to tell me it’ll be better. It’s quiet. It’s calm. There’s no shame in sitting with the dead.

When was there every light in my eyes? When was there a life worth living?

I know nobody will read all of this, I know nobody will listen or understand. I know that I will be gone one day and it will change nothing. The world keeps turning and I will finally;Finally get the rest I needed.

[zibaldone-di-pensieri]

The image in your eyes Reflecting the pain that has taken you I hear it in your voice, so ridden with shame From what's ailing you

When the demon that's inside you is ready to begin And it feels like it's a battle that you will never win When you're aching for the fire and begging for your sin When there's nothing left inside

[gomzdrawfr]

it's hard loving yourself

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Errors, "Errors," and Sci Fi: The Nail Gun Gray Zone

I have more thoughts on errors in sci fi, specifically what does and does not count as an error. So I made a graph.

I'm a firm believer that at some point, your story will just be better if you bend certain rules of reality. A story with 100% realistic gun battles will be impossible for audiences to follow. One with ultra-realistic dialog will be boring and impossible to follow.

HOWEVER. Ice floats in water. Residents of now-Phoenix in the 1700s might've not known that, but it's hard to imagine anyone alive today who hasn't at minimum seen an image of a drink with ice in it. So GI Joe (2009) hinging a major plot point on a block of ice sinking in liquid water is widely regarded as silly and world-breaking. Same goes for The Strangers (2008) making a character unable to use her phone while it's plugged in and charging. Even in 2008, a solid majority of U.S. moviegoers owned cell phones and regularly used them as they were plugged in. Errors. Firmly.

But on the opposite end of the spectrum, you have "errors" that only bug a small subset of your audience with relevant expertise. You can always count on some of that subset to take to Reddit and whine pedantically about a 10-round gun firing 11 rounds, but I doubt those count as errors. My personal example is the lack of a character named Surprise in Inside Out — I've studied and taught Paul Ekman's theories, so to me the fact that they included only 5 of his 6 "universal" affects is always going to look weird. But I know that's less an error than a pet peeve, because there wouldn't be much for the character Surprise to do that isn't taken up by Fear or Joy. (The sequel also has a Surprise-ish and a Contempt-ish character, so there's that.) Same goes for the water main not being pressurized correctly in Batman Begins — I'll take city planners' word for it that Scarecrow's plan wouldn't work, but COME ON. It's a sci fi movie about a furry who makes a living punching aliens. If you want realism, watch a documentary.

That said. There's also that middle zone. What I call the Nail Gun Gray Zone, because it really is hard to tell how much some errors are obscure and piddly, how much they're mainstream and obvious. Because. Nail guns can't shoot nails. They're not projectile weapons. Not unless the story takes the time to show a character modifying the tool to override the fact that it has to be pressed flush against a board before it will fire. BUT. If you told me "99% of modern Americans know that!" I'd believe you. If you told me "only professional contractors know that!" I'd believe you. That poll clarified basically nothing — roughly 25% of respondents had used a nail gun, ~25% didn't know much about them, and ~50% had only seen one used. (I didn't ask "do you know that a nail gun can't be used as a projectile weapon" because then anyone who read the question should by definition answer "yes.")

Anyway, I think that a lot of online arguments about errors/"errors" in sci fi can be captured by the Nail Gun Gray Zone. Most of us can agree that only pedantic blowhards would say that the lack of Surprise ruins Inside Out, and most of us can agree that it'd be nice if The Strangers had simply broken Kristen's phone. Nail guns? One person's "oh come on, that looks ridiculous!" is another person's "it's called a nail gun, right? so why not use it like a gun?" and I don't think doing more polls will resolve it one way or another.

[incesthemes]

see but when dean tells sam he's not going to leave him to die to the croatoan virus, that he's going to die with him, he locks the door from the inside and then steps away from it. there's nothing stopping sam from getting up and forcing dean out of the door, locking him out so dean can't get back in with him. yet sam just sits on the bench, arguing with words but not with actions, never actions. he lets dean stay with him, he lets dean lock the door, he lets dean settle in. and all the while sam is pleading with him, don't do it don't kill yourself too just let me die, but he doesn't do anything about it. he doesn't do anything but sit there and let dean be with him. his actions contradict his words. do you see? he was moved. he was grateful to be so loved. he didn't actually want dean to die in that hospital room with him, but he didn't actually want dean to abandon him there to die alone, either.

[stealingpotatoes]

luke and biggs… thoughts?

many thoughts + it means luke has a type

[pineappical]

very good friends

[blueskittlesart]

cold fruit in a hot kitchen (so i had this great watermelon last weekend)

[nyckie]

just watched a deer go into my open travel trailer and was so excited about going into a forbidden place that she came out binkying and prancing in circles in front of the door

there's still good things in the world

[rastronomicals]

2:06 AM EST December 5, 2023:

Black Flag - "Nothing Left Inside" From the album My War (March 1984)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

File under:    Stuff They Wrote to Piss Off the Skinheads

[hylaversicolor]

peace of mind was not meant for me

[francolapintogf]

all these records set by legends of the sport who actually fought for the wins and had eventful seasons….. man it really sucks to see someone who can barely muster a smile after a boring race clinch all of them without any effort

[introspectivememories]

I FORGOT I EVEN SENT THAT ASK AND YOUR RESPONSE HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK OHMSYGODDFJDJ

I seriously love your writing so much you always put a heap of emotion into it 😭😭

also adore the idea of TIM being the one who's obsessed with bear and going to such lengths just to keep seeing him, I tend to prefer happy endings so I like to think they work it out after a while but like also the angst is amazing

god the amount of yearning in this au makes me so mmmpfhhhf

god im just so sorry that it took me soo long to reply!!! you sent just as i was taking my break from tumblr and other social media :(((

i remember reading it and thinking to myself "god if i had the timbern brainworms, i could write smth for this" but then recently they've been coming back and i was a church bored out of my mind when i was like "hmmm maybe i should respond?"

and ohhh my god, when i first got it, i immediately thought about how toxic it could get and like, personally, i feel like i can't write complicated characters? if that makes sense? to me, im not very good at writing multi-dimensional characters. which to be fair, i never set out to become like a pulitzer prize winning author. i just do this for fun haha.

and like i knew that my answer to your ask was always gonna be toxic timbern but i didn't know if i could write it? ig??? bc like tim is a good person. he is!!! he just wants bear so badly. and it's past the initial physical attraction now.

he and bear are all grown up. he likes bear's wit and humor, well the wit and humor he gets to hear when bear doesn't know he's around. but bear wont let him in!!!! bear wont open himself up and tim's apologized!!!! he did!!! he doesn't even know what he did and he still apologized!!!!! and it changed nothing. bear doesn't talk to him or look at him or anything. nothing but polite professionalism.

and then one day, he sees bear on his balcony as he's swinging through the streets of gotham. and bear isn't doing anything special, he's just sitting there in sweats and no shirt and the moonlight hits his pecs just right and his shoulders are so broad and-

well he cant be blamed for stopping to take a peek, right? and maybe when he has has time he swings by more and more. just watching for longer and longer, until one day bear catches him. and as they stare at each other from opposite sides of the street, tim thinks this is it. the cold glances and frosty words are going to come back. bear's never gonna just sit on his balcony again. he's lost this too. but then-

oh.

bear sends him a hesitant wave and tim raises a trembling hand to wave back. and bear- well bear's mouth splits into a smile brilliant enough to rival the sun. beautiful like the sunrise. the promise of a new beginning. if he closes his eyes, tim thinks he can feel the sunlight's warm rays on him.

hes' hooked after that. he comes around again and again. one day bear lets him on the balcony. weeks later, bear's hugging him. weeks after that, tim's in bear's lap. and he knows it's not right. that bear thinks he's someone else. that bear doesnt want anything to do with him but how is he supposed to let this go? how is he supposed disentangle himself from bear's arms?

so he lies and he lies and he prays to any and every god he can think of, that he'll get to keep this. plus he's not really lying to bear, he's just... not talking about it! if bear asks, he'll tell him point blank. he swears it. but that's a problem for another day. things are looking up! bear said more than 5 sentences to him the other day and yesterday? he even got a small smile. it'll all work out. he'll be fine.