#fr though this isnt meant to be like. a vent or autobiographical i just saw all the before u post acronym jokes n wanted to make 1 too

[callibones]

before u make a post on your tumblr, take a second to STOP!

S - strategize. you're not just posting this for you. of course you have someone in mind. if you just wanted your thoughts on paper, you'd make a diary or something. but tumblr's for community building. and you have a community you're trying to appeal to. or maybe that's what you're telling yourself, but you know it's just a single person out of that community. one person you've always had your eye on. but who would you be if you approached them directly and just talked to them? that's not you. that's not the kind of life you live. if you're worth talking to you, they'll come to you. so you need to be prepared to welcome them with open arms. they'll get the message one of these days, right?

T - tailor the post to them, but don't make it obvious. there's a sweet spot you want to hit!! if icarus flies too low, and never flaps his wings, nobody will ever see him. nobody will know what he could've done. he'll be in the air for all of a few seconds and then splash into the water and drown because he froze. he didn't trust himself. but he must not trust himself too much, lest he flies too high. his wings, wax, are befitting of his status, because icarus is not a bird, no matter how much he wants to be. if only he could fly forever, he could reach the gods, or even the birds. but his wax will melt if he tries to get too close. so he can gaze at the sky, but he has to know when to duck close to the water. you may refer to the mutual as "a mutual" in the tags of the post. but do not invoke their name. you are not a bird. you cannot fly on your own. you have to wait for them to catch you. with any luck, they'll do the flapping for you after that, and you can shed your embarrassing imitation of a creature much better than you. maybe you can fool them into thinking you're a bird until you're safe?

O - obsess over every word. if you were there with them, basking in their glittering light, you'd have to improvise. you'd have to be charming in real time. and what's scarier than that? surely not this, you tell yourself, gripping the countertop. you grind your teeth as you stare at the tag of a reblog that you just KNOW they'll like. they're a fan of some game you're vaguely familiar with. you've read and reread and rereread their posts on the subject, and you've picked up enough knowledge to make a little in-joke. but what would TRULY be excellent is if they'd be willing to explain it to you. if you could flap your wings and fly up to the sun, park between the rays, and ask it to hop into a discord call with you for a few hours to talk about the lore of a video game you aren't actually planning to play. you close your eyes, flapping. you can see it. you can feel it. your heart thumping. their eyes wide, attention on you. you have to improvise. you can't stay in this moment forever. you can tell they're watching. and if they're not, really, down above the sea, where you're flapping your gorgeous love letters to wings, what's even the point of staying low? and as you visualize your worst nightmare coming to pass and you getting to really, truly, talk to them and not just dance around and around and around, up and down, towards the sun and towards the sea, hands in theirs, eyes connected, wings intertwined until you don't know which ones are wax and which aren't, you flap and you flap and you flap and you flap and get closer and closer to the sun. and staring into it, and not shielding your eyes, and ignoring everything your father told you about the wax wings, is getting you so close to the sun that you can reach out and you can see the gods and you can see the birds and the sea is gone and they're looking at you and they're holding out a hand and they're smiling and they're smiling at you and they're the sun and the birds and the gods and the sea and you

P - post it.

and then you fall away from the sun (them) past the birds (them) and the gods (them) into the sea (them).

and the flying never mattered.

they were just waiting for you to come to them. it didn't matter where, or when, or how.

the sun tried to dip down into the horizon, but it was too far. the sea tried to pull itself up as a tidal wave, but it was too still. the birds tried to stop flying, and the gods tried to focus, but they were all too removed, too busy, too afraid.

you flapped. you fell.

you were keeping yourself delicately out of harm's way, at tremendous effort, following the needle-thin path away from anything that could disrupt your flight.

all you had to do was STOP.