#i can lose it in a month. month and a half. if i do things right

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #1: DYAD

(also on spotify!)

Hello everyone!! It's been a couple weeks and change since Constant Companions, my newest album, was released unto the world, and I've been genuinely blown away by the response. Genuinely, thank you to everyone who's been streaming, commenting, making mashups, changing their pfps and usernames - it means the world to me!

I wanted to give some of that love back with something people have been asking me a lot about - and, admittedly, something I love doing. Song explanations! Deep dives! Dropping the lore! Welcome... to the Constant Companions Closeups...

For the next eleven days, I'll be going into each track one by one and babbling about the process, inspiration, details, feelings, and thoughts behind each one! We're getting sappy. We're bearing our hearts. We're telling unfunny jokes. And we're starting with track one - DYAD (featuring unit.0)!

---

Naturally, since this is the first track, it also serves as a great point to talk about my intention with this album as a whole!

I'll elaborate more on this with future tracks, but to me, there are really two main things that define the sonic progression of this album versus my previous work - guitars and vocal synths. Obviously, these things have been present in my work since I first started calling myself Jamie Paige, but Constant Companions is intended to be my overwrought, sappy confession of love to these two things that time and time again have made me simply want to make music. I love rock and I love Hatsune Miku dammit!!!

I had originally written this song in February of 2023 for a game-jam-esque online festival hosted by my friend Loni called HAPPY PARTY TRI, and at that time, I had found myself at a major crossroads. I had put out People Posture Play Pretend and :women_wrestling: the previous year, and while the response was nice, I was feeling listless and lost.

I love singing. I like my voice well enough. I certainly love writing music with lyrics!! But... there was something uniquely electrifying about using vocal synths. Amidst a lot of insecurity and emotional turmoil surrounding the process of making art and putting myself out into the world, it was one of the few things that just made everything feel right. Suddenly, I was making the same kind of music that had touched my heart so many times over.

Would it alienate people, though? Would I lose longtime listeners? Yes, that weighed on my mind more than I'd like to admit, but even more than that... I was worried I'd lose some part of myself, as silly as it sounds. Maybe what I thought was a bridge would become a barrier, and the messages I wanted to send across the gap would never find their way.

Ultimately, I felt that Dyad was the only kind of opener I could've possibly given this album, and a perfect fit for the album's motif. A dialogue between myself, stricken with loneliness and a lack of inertia running in circles, and that synthesized voice (ANRI Arcane my darling), grabbing the outstretched hand and asking a question I already know the answer to -

"Baby, do you know what you wanna hear?"

Yes, it's a love song, but it's not just for a person - it's a love song for the creative impulse, and for the places I wanted it to take me.

im resisting the urge to be jokingly dismissive of myself to diffuse tension but i still need to signal that the emotionally bare part of this is over so pretend im doing a funny little dance Anyways let's talk more technical stuff

---

Like many of my songs, Dyad came together from a patchwork of different snippets and ideas I had laying around. The back half of the chorus - "dream together, we can dream together" - originally came from this idea I had jotted down something like 9 months prior, but ended up being a perfect fit for Dyad in basically every way. The verse snippet that I'd written to go with it got reused for a later song on Constant Companions as well! (I say without naming it, as if it isn't literally lifted wholesale from this demo and thus incredibly obvious)

I wasn't originally planning on brazenly quoting the bridge of a Tally Hall song when I set out to write this song, but while toying around with a bridge idea involving a shortened version of the pre-chorus melody, I realized I had inadvertently copied it anyways. I was going to scrap it... but at the request of my dear friend and certified Tally Hall lover Marcy Nabors, I made it an explicit reference. Which I'm fine with, personally! The first CD I ever owned was a copy of Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum my sister bought me all the way back in 2006 - You can pry that sentimental attachment from my cold, dead hands, TikTok kiddies.

Lastly - not really behind the scenes so much as just a shoutout - thank you to unit.0 for the lovely lead guitar work on this song!! He's been a beloved collaborator of mine for many, many years now, and one of the people who ultimately convinced me this direction was the right one to go in, so it means a lot to share this song with him. Go listen to his music!!! Now!!!!!!

That's about it for this song! Not to sound like a fucking YouTuber, but genuinely, if there are any details you'd like to hear more about, let me know and I might made a bonus post at the end of all this. Otherwise, thank you for listening! Tomorrow: Not Quite There, featuring telebasher!

❤️💚

[xenascribbles]

The Vampire and The Devilspawn

our first Anzurin chapter :) pls enjoy ! || Chapter Navigation - a post with a link to each posted chapter

3270 words

Chapter 2 - Anzurin

Cautiously, Anzurin pulls back from the fledgling, tensed and ready to grab her again if he needs to. She stares at him with wide eyes, brown tinged red, her auburn hair in a tangled, bloody mess, and pure rage dripping out of every pore. He doesn’t know why exactly she’s so angry, aside from the hunger that’s surely gnawing at her, but he wants to know. What has happened to her? Clearly something. 

She’s wearing a tight, turtle-necked, long sleeved shirt that covers all but her hands, and a loose pair of cargo pants, but on the little patches of skin that are visible, Anzurin makes out many faded scars, some jagged, some clean and uniform, as if done deliberately, but not medically. 

Like someone had sliced into her. 

“Where were you before you showed up at Velur’s coven today?” he asks. If she has indeed been a fledgling for months like he dreadfully suspects, then it’s likely that someone has been holding onto her the entire time. He hasn’t heard anything about any fledglings going wild on the surface in the last few months. A couple rogue vampires that weren’t much to deal with, but nothing about a fledgling like her. 

Magdalena, once released, quickly snatches the bag of blood from him, and immediately squeezes at least half of it into her mouth. “Dunno,” she murmurs around the plastic spout. 

Anzurin takes a single step back, wanting to give her space, but not trusting her with much. Something about the vacant look in her eye urges him to ask, “Don’t know, or don’t remember?” 

She only hums, “Mhm,” as an answer, which doesn’t really answer anything. She’s entirely focused on the blood and not much else. 

“Well, how about this,” he tries. “Do you know how long ago you were changed?” 

Her brow scrunches in the middle as she thinks. “Mm. Three.” She gives a little nod, as if affirming the answer to herself. 

“Three what? Three days? Weeks, months?”

“Mhm.” 

“Which one, Magdalena?” 

She blinks for the first time in a few minutes, pulling off of the spout to look around the room. She looks at the door, then at Brem, and the bag of blood in her hands, and finally, she looks at Anzurin, confusion etched into her gaze. She looks at him as if just realizing he’s there. “What?” 

Anzurin sighs, abandoning his line of questioning. She can’t answer anything. Or she just won’t. He’s not sure which it is, but is leaning towards can’t. There’s definitely something off about the look in her eye, how it bounces between vacant and frantic and angry. Something happened to her, and he’d like to know what. 

“Velur had better return soon with whoever brought you in,” he grumbles angrily, losing patience with the devilspawn already. “In the meantime, I’d like to take you to my doctors for a full examination. Maybe that’ll answer some questions.” 

“Or create more,” Brem laughs nervously, taking a step back. “Do I have to … tag along?” 

Anzurin studies the fledgling. Magdalena Pierce, supposedly. The only thing she seems to know. She’s calmed down considerably, but he’s sure that any little thing could set her off again, and he has no idea what might cause her to lash out. An easier question might be: what doesn’t. 

“Well, I suppose you can,” he answers Brem. “Or, if you’d rather, you can go figure out absolutely everything you can about her life before.” 

“I’ll do that.” Brem hurries out of Anzurin’s office, leaving him alone with a rabid fledgling. 

Surprising him, she lets out a small sigh once the door closes behind Brem, and then she closes her eyes as she empties the blood bag. Anzurin quickly pulls the next out of his pocket and opens it, holding it out to her by the time she realizes that she’s finished the one she has. 

She snatches it away from him and drinks it just as desperately as she drank the last one. Giving her a little faith, Anzurin takes multiple steps away from her, letting her have the space she most likely wants, but he does tell her again, “I’d like to take you to be checked out by the doctor, Magdalena. Can we do that? I’ll keep feeding you as long as you need.” 

To prove it, he walks over to his minifridge and takes out two more bags to put in his jacket pockets, hoping that they’ll warm up before she’s ready to drink them; cold blood can’t taste great. Her thirst is unlike anything Anzurin has ever seen, except for a couple of very rare cases. She has the hunger of a vampire that hasn’t fed in weeks or even months, and he knows first hand what that looks like. 

Magdalena nods, wide eyes pinned on his every move. 

“We’ve got to set some rules before we leave this office. You can’t be attacking us. I get that you’re hungry, and we’re going to do what we can to make sure you’re sufficiently fed, but there is an order to this coven that we have to keep. You disrupt that order, and you will be dealt with appropriately.”

She drags her thumb across her neck. 

“If we have to,” Anzurin answers, “though, I’d personally prefer not to. Believe it or not, I don’t find any joy in having to kill a vampire, and I’ll explore every other option before we get to that point, but if you keep trying to kill everyone, you’ll force my hand.”

She opens her mouth to poke at her blood-coated fangs. “Wanna bite.” She gnashes her teeth together and her gaze drops down to Anzurin’s still bleeding arm. 

He’d nearly forgotten. Anzurin brings the wound to his mouth and licks it, the devilspawn magic in his saliva healing the entire mangled mess in less than two seconds. As for his neck, he grabs his handkerchief out of his pocket, spitting on it before pressing to his neck until he only feels unblemished skin under his fingers. 

“I’ll let you feed from me again later,” he tells her, not sure if he really means it. “Right now, you’ve already taken a lot of blood from me. Any more, and it may be the end of me; we can’t have that.” Slowly so that he doesn’t frighten her, Anzurin steps closer to Magdalena, coming to stand directly in front of her. 

He doesn’t really like using his abilities on others, but he rations that it might be necessary this time, so he drops his head to look her in the eyes, stretching his power out towards her. It dips into her mind, tentatively testing the edges before it assaults her thoughts. The feeling of touching someone else’s mind always makes Anzurin’s skin crawl and his bones itch, but he pushes on. This needs to be done if he wants to keep everyone alive. 

He ventures into her mind, finding the intrusion to be easier than expected. Most people have a wall around their mind, much like a mental skull, making Anzurin put in an effort to venture into their heads, but Magdalena’s is defenseless, and he sinks into it too easily. 

Her mind is not much different than what she presents on the outside, a muddled mess that either focuses on nothing, or jumps from thought to thought before one can even fully form. It runs without form, like a river released from its channel and pouring over the land. It begs for some type of order, for direction. 

Magdalena stares up at him with wide eyes, likely unaware of his exploration of her mind, sucking down blood like it’s the only thing she cares about. Maybe it is. 

“You’re going to behave,” Anzurin tells her, the command winding its way through the folds of her brain and embedding itself. 

She nods, accepting the guidance easily. Fledglings need someone to follow, they need direction, or they’d run wild and kill everything in their path. It’s written into their very beings, so it’s no surprise that Magdalena seems to listen to him so easily. Albeit, a little too easily, but she listens nonetheless, and Anzurin counts that as a win. 

Pushing further into her mind, he tells her, “We are going to go see the doctors. They are going to examine you without issue. You will not attack them when they try to look at you. Yes?” 

“Yes,” she echoes, her voice muffled around the blood. 

“If you feel like you have to bite someone, you bite me. You –” 

Anzurin cuts off as he finally hits a wall in her mind, not where it should be. He thought that it was a bit too easy to tunnel through the empty channels of her mind, and now it makes sense why. It’s already been burrowed into. He can’t be sure how long ago she was manipulated, or who did it to her, but her mind has most definitely been poked and prodded by a devilspawn other than himself. And whoever did this to her constructed a new wall within her mind, one that she can’t even seem to penetrate. Anzurin tries to get a look behind the wall, but he can’t sense anything on the other side of it. 

He pokes at the misplaced wall until Magdalena begins to show discomfort. She scrunches her nose and looks away from him, down to the blood filled pouch in her hands. 

Unsure what to do with her mangled mind, Anzurin eases out of it and takes a step back, blinking. “Just behave, please. Alright. Let’s go. Walk next to me.” 

Hoping she listens, he turns for the door and leaves his office. Thankfully, she does, traipsing along at his side down the hallway, slurping happily on the blood as her eyes dart around, looking at anything and everything.

There isn’t much for her to look at in the hallway that leads to Anzurin’s office, a few portraits of him and the other coven leaders lining the dimly lit, sage green walls, but nothing else. She glances at each painting, grumbling at them except when she reaches Velur’s. She stops in her tracks in front of his portrait, teeth bared at it as if he were really standing right in front of her. 

Anzurin steps up behind her, also staring at Velur’s portrait, but he’s wondering what it is about him that she hates so much. What has he done to her? Is he that one that’s muddied her mind? Is he the reason she’s so broken and confused and angry? 

He’ll have to talk to the spawn later. 

“Come on, Magdalena,” he urges, a hand on her arm to lead her away from Velur’s portrait. She looks down at his hand and snarls at it until he removes it, but does in fact turn and follow him. 

Her steps scuff softly across the floor, walking with near silence, while each of Anzurin’s heavy steps echo around them. Apart from their footsteps, the only other sound is her slurping, once again reaching the end of a blood bag at an alarming pace. 

“Another?”

Maggie nods, looking up at him with large eyes, cheeks hollowing as she sucks out every last drop of blood. Anzurin pulls the next bag out of his pocket and takes the cap off of the spout. It’s bordering on worrisome, how much she’s drinking. Any fledgling, even a newly turned one that hadn’t yet fed, wouldn’t drink this much. The last time he saw anything this bad, it was a fledgling that had been turned but then buried in a coffin before they woke. The poor guy had been stuck there for three weeks before his creator finally stopped seeing humor in the situation and let him out. 

That was only three weeks of starvation, and Magdalena has already drank more than he did on his first day of freedom. Reasonably, she should have been satiated after draining Herra, and especially after drinking from Anzurin, but she’s still going. Still starving. 

Anzurin glances at his wrist, fine now, but where she’d shredded his skin with her teeth before. While he’s not as educated on the fledgling stages as his team of doctors are, he at least knows the basics, and judging by the size and sharpness of her fangs, he’d estimate that she’s a couple months old. 

But he doesn’t want to believe that that’s right. It can’t be. He hates to think that she has, in fact, been kept somewhere and starved for months at a time. He hates to think that she lost a large portion of her time as a fledgling to … to … to wherever she was, whatever happened to her. 

She growls and snarls at the few devilspawn that pass them on the short trek through the manor but doesn’t try to attack them, much to Anzurin’s relief. What is it about Anzurin’s fellow devilspawn that she hates so much that just the sight of them sets her off? Most, if not all, of the fledglings in the coven are asleep, as Magdalena should be, as Anzurin wishes he was. 

By the time they reach the medical wing of Anzurin’s coven, it seems like Magdalena might actually be calming down. She’s sipping a bit slower on her pre-packaged blood and that starving edge in her eyes is beginning to soften, being replaced by a cautious curiosity as she takes in everything around her. 

Anzurin stops in front of a heavy wooden door and knocks, a wary glance at Magdalena as they wait. 

After only a few seconds, Inessa Lucra, a vampire and Anzrun’s lead doctor, swings open the door, rubbing her eyes as if she’d just awoken. The pajamas she’s still wearing tell the same story. She glances between Anzurin and Magdalena, who doesn’t make a single noise, not so much as a grumble. 

Inessa’s red eyes widen at the sight of Magdalena covered in blood, gasping, “Oh, dear! What happened?” She grabs a jacket from the hook right next to her, slipping it on over her camisole as she steps out into the hallway with them. 

“New fledgling. Special circumstances. I’d like to put her through a full examination.” 

Every new fledgling does get a complete examination upon intake, so it’s not an odd request, but it’s rare that any come in covered in blood, and it’s even rarer than Anzurin himself comes to ask for one at this time. 

Inessa leads them back the way they just came, towards her offices. “So, what’s the deal?” she asks over her shoulder. 

“Not entirely certain.” He looks at Magdalena, who is looking at the bag of blood rather than drinking from it, tilting it back and forth. “Velur brought her in just a little bit ago. She was at his coven and killed a devilspawn, apparently. I’m not sure how old she is, but I’m estimating a few months. Velur should be bringing whoever is in charge of intake, so maybe they can tell us how long ago she was brought in.” 

Jamming a key into the door handle, Inessa uses her hip to bump it open when it gets stuck on the doorframe. “We’ll take a look at her. See what we’re dealing with.” 

“I compelled her to behave while you look at her, but … well, she likes to bite, Ness. She may still try to attack.” 

“Seems alright to me,” she says, glancing at where Magdalena stands motionless, eyes wide, and the pouch between her lips. Inessa ushers them through the waiting area and into an examination room. “Alright, let’s get you up on the bed and we’ll take a look at you.” Inessa points towards the plastic covered contraption that can hardly be defined as a bed. 

She doesn’t move, or even show that she heard Inessa at all, really. 

Anzurin says her name to get her attention, and she slowly blinks at him, that look in her eye once again as if she’s just realizing where she is. “This is Inessa,” he tells her cautiously. “She’s a doctor. She’s going to examine you, which means she’s going to have to touch you. Okay?” 

She nods jerkily and Anzurin allows himself to feel a fraction of relief at her cooperation. Only a little. 

He pats the plastic cot and nudges the step stool with his foot. “Sit up here, please.” 

Magdalena nods and does as he requests, and Anzurin finds it a bit endearing when she starts to swing her feet. What a gentle and joyful movement for a creature as bloodthirsty and vicious as her. 

Inessa steps forward, first walking a circle around the cot as she looks at Magdalena from all angles. She stops when she’s back in front of Magdalena and smiles warmly at her. “You like biting, right? Show me your teeth.” 

Magdalena bares her teeth as asked, tongue pushing against the back of them. They’re still coated in a thin layer of blood with red flesh stuck between some of them. 

Inessa pulls on a pair of blue gloves while she visually inspects Magdalena’s teeth, and asks, “May I?” before reaching towards her face. 

Magdalena freezes for a moment, then looks towards Anzurin, who gives her a small nod. Hesitant, she pulls her lips back even further and leans in towards Inessa, and – surprising Anzurin – she squeezes her eyes shut. She hardly even blinks, and the only time he’s seen her close her eyes was when she was so completely engrossed in feeding, but now, the way she squeezes them closed… well, it reminds Anzurin more of a grimace. Or a flinch. 

Inessa pinches Magdalena’s upper lip gently and pulls it up to inspect her gums, poking just above her fangs, then does the same to her bottom lip. Moving on, she presses her fingers just under Magdalena’s jawline, prodding. 

Finally, she pulls away, and Magdalena’s shoulders slump as she releases a breath and opens her eyes. 

“At least three months, maybe even four,” Inessa says, confirming Anzurin’s worries. “Her fangs are almost fully down already, and it feels like her venom glands are just starting to form.” She retrieves an instrument from the cabinets against the wall which she uses to look in Magdalena’s ears, noting, “Slight damage to the left side. Right looks fine.” 

Anzurin’s curiosity climbs. “Before or after being made?” 

“Before, I think. Hard to say for certain. You want the entire package, right? Labs, x-rays, all that?” 

Nodding, he says, “Better safe than sorry. We don’t know anything about her right now, and there’s clearly something to be known.” He checks the clock ticking away on the wall. Velur better return soon, and he better have some answers. 

Inessa performs a few more minor tests on Magdalena before she has her stand up for even more poking and prodding. Just when she’s beginning to look uncomfortable and like she might be feeling the urge to bite again, Inessa steps away. 

“Alright,” she sighs, clapping her hands. “Let’s go make sure everything’s alright on the inside. I’ll go get everything set up if you two want to give me a few minutes.”

“No rush. A break is probably a good idea.” 

As Magdalena’s gaze shifts to his neck, he pulls the last pouch out of his pocket, and her eyes light up, her hand shooting out to grab for it. She doesn’t even bother taking the cap off properly, biting it off instead, and as she squeezes the blood into her mouth, she keeps her unblinking stare pinned on his throat. 

---

taglist :) interact with this post here or contact me to be added. contact me to be removed.

@pizzamanstan @leahnardo-da-veggie @dyrewrites @trippingpossum @possiblyeldritch

@godsmostfuckedupgoblin @jgc-comeundermybridge @shortcircuitthegreat @seastarblue @bloodmoodtrash

@theaistired @korol--reznii @simonnebethel @danimia @written-among-stars

@lofiyaketyblr @quill-main @bellascarousel @alexanderflowerbird @lead-to-code

@annothersummerofsleep @tragedycoded @saecarnell @albatris  @solaristawrites

@the-letterbox-archives @imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese 

[deluxewhump]

Carlo’s Letters: Absalom (unsent)

CW: self harm, disordered and restrictive eating

January 2020

I know you think anything that draws blood is girlish and pitiful.

So sometimes I play a game with a boxcutter that makes me feel less responsible for when the blade nicks me. Still, afterward, I see my palms and arms shallowly slit up as if with cat scratches and I think, this is pathetic. Self pity, you called it. The worst thing in the world.

That’s the worst thing in the world, I quote under my breath as I toss the metal handle up so it spins in the air and I catch it on the way down. When I catch it blade first, the pain of it jolts through me like a small electric shock. It fades quickly but it releases pressure, like a dental instrument cutting into an abscessed gum. When the blade doesn’t nip me, I have to say it again, your condemnation of my self-pity. That’s the worst thing in the world.

I do this on my new master’s back patio, a half circle of stone tiles with wicker furniture and Adirondack chairs that are covered in frost half the day since the sun doesn’t hit this spot in winter. We’re up in the hills and there is truly no one out here, just the far away line of trees like druids with beards of virginal snow, the calls of chickadees and the chatter of squirrels. I see deer all the time in the yard. I watched the babies get bigger and lose their white spots. I know when I can’t stand the cold anymore because my fingers will get stiff and whitish-purple and I’ll just drop the stupid boxcutter altogether. Then it’s time to go inside and the self-pity ritual ends.

To avoid the shame of the boxcutter, I can also choose not to eat during the day. I eat with Max at night usually, and I don’t want him to notice, so I keep doing that. But I don’t have to eat all day. It’s better this way, because I can keep doing it for longer. If I stopped altogether the ruse would be up pretty quickly. But one meal a day? That’s perfect. The first week or so I feel physical hunger, but that fades. I get a sense of sharpness that I like. It feels like I’ve taken a stimulant.

I get dizzy when I stand up fast, but I don’t black out. I still eat once a day, so it’s not that bad. And it makes eating way more pleasurable. Anything at all tastes incredible. My mouth waters from the smell alone. I notice textures as if I’ve never eaten them before. I swear I can feel my blood sugar rising, and when it plateaus later. I always leave some on my plate so Max doesn’t think I’m hungry, even if I want to finish it. Im not sure what he’d say, but I hate his disappointment. More than I hated yours. Sometimes I flirted with your disappointment just to get your eyes on me, to get you to look at me at all. His feels different.

I’m hungry when I go to bed at night even just a few hours later, but it doesn’t keep me awake. I’m in control of it. It keeps me company. Like a dog at my feet.

I’ll stop if I get too skinny again. I know you don’t think I will but I will. I don’t know if I ever fully realized this until the day I saw you on tv with your lawyers, coming out of a Baltimore courthouse as if it were a O&H shareholder meeting, but you’re not omniscient. We don’t have telepathy. You don’t know everything. It’s not about that anyway, it’s about feeling the way I need to feel so I don’t lose my mind. And I can’t cut my hands to ribbons, so I do this for a few months instead.

It thrills me that you can’t take my face in your hands and use your quietest, calmest voice to bully me, or force me, or even sweet-talk me into submission. Sometimes I think of the fact that you can’t even leave your cell without permission and I laugh out loud. You and your cabal of colleagues, workers, hired help, house-call doctors. It was all so tight under your rotten fucking thumb.

(Unsigned)

[stuckinapril]

One day I’ll go through med school and then I’ll go through residency and then I’ll go through a fellowship and then I’ll be the most crybaby neurosurgeon you could think of. Bursting into tears if I so much as graze ur hypothalamus with my forceps

[faunandfloraas]

"Seungmin would be SO hot if he got muscle like, can you imagine?" You would be hotter if you shut your mouth but we can't always get what we want so <3

[folkloregirlfriend]

i hate feeling ambitionless aimless the future is so bleak

[wildyellowsong]

sooo ,, this sums up pretty much every selfship i have . 😋😋😭😝😝

[kyuala]

SOOOOOO hard to go through everyday life trying to ignore the never-ending feeling that im just irreparably fucked up and therefore should just give up on everything

[blueheartedwolf]

I wish I could find a doctor that wants to find out what’s actually wrong with me instead of recommending prescriptions to address the symptoms. I’m so tired of being recommended ibuprofen for debilitating pain. Tired of relaying my medical history to a new doctor and getting the same furrowed brow and shrugging shoulders I get every time. Tired of having so-called medical professionals ask why I need a cane if I’m able to walk down their clinic hallway without it. When will someone fucking help me?

[non-un-topo]

Daily November crying sessions start today

[yesplsnothankyou]

I only come on tumblr when I'm at the very end of my rope and barely hanging on by a quickly disintegrating thread and I don't know what that tells you about me

[crescentfool]

doing things outside of your usual is such a humbling experience...

[wolpatinga]

[nessvn]

i just need to make it to shabbat i just need to make it to shabbat i just need

[professionaljester]

love being 25 and not knowing how to socialize bc i’m autistic and off putting and cringe so no one wanted to talk to me/wanted to be my friend growing up so now i’m an adult with very few friends or ppl i talk to on a regular basis bc i never learned how to socialize or text properly bc no one taught me how

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I think I understand Antigone and I'm making this no one else's problem but my own. I can deal with my own devices even if those devices always break. I'm not trying to complain. I'm not complaining. I know this has to be right but I'm still here laying on the couch. world's smallest violin or whatever they say. if you go know you go as one beloved although you go without your mind.