#i do not know what love is

[squeiky]

The audacity of existence.

How dare you be concieved. To be blessed with the touch of angels, you golden haired goddess. How dare you force your reflection upon mine. The audacity to mirror me.

YOU.

I hate you. You are my purgatory, and hell resides within your dastardly light. You are the anthesis to my existance, my purpose, my life. Tormet me by image alone.

Do you know how much you have pained me? How much the mere sight of you, has distorted me? Ruined me? Hurt me? Questions your existance has plauged in my mind?

Look at you, my loathsome copy. You are nothing like me.

So then why?

Why does the universe kiss you gently upon a flushed cheek then heckle and spit on mine? Why are you the beloved golden duckling whilst i remain the unwanted black swan?

Why is it me who must rid myself of my body, blood, and mind. Discarding me of myself to end you? I have done nothing short of effort. I have given myself all to destroying you, to riding the world of you. Yet they love you. They do not love me.

We resemble eachother more than anyone else ever will. It is cruel a fate, to be devoted entirely to destroying a twisted reflection of myself. Burdened by both our images, drowning me in hatred made for both us. Yet you remain free, whilsy i remain prisioner.

It feels, as i seek to destroy you, i destroy myself. So i do. Over and over again. Yet you remain unscathed, bright and beautiful. Whilst i remain broken, left to rot in the mud. Helpless. Afraid. Alone.

Thinking.

What must i do? Who must i be to be kissed by the same light that dared to birth you?

Must i purge myself of all things to simply taste a fraction of it? How will i outshine you? Must I transform my body till there is nothing of me left, just to feel your light crushed beneath mine? Must i erase myself completly? Must i become you? Must i be you?  Must i place my hands against your neck? My lifeless material crushing your ugly flesh to finally hear the last of your breath. Must i feel everyones glare peirce through my unending spine, wishing nothing but breaking every metal bone instead of me?

Must i take their love and desire and rip it from their broken hearts, forcing them to kneel before me and drag your dead light upon me? Must i become king of all things, living, dead and unalive, before i get a fraction, a mere TASTE of your life?

Is that what the world desires of me?

Is THAT what it takes?

my loathsome copy. Your existance is what destroys me. You are everything without me but i am nothing without you.  Yet i am made to end you. To destroy the only thing, the only purpose i have in life.

You all look down upon me. Even my creator, cant seem to look at me without seeing you. Forever i am compared to you. Forever i think of only you. Forever i am destroyed by you. Forever i am devoted to destroying you. Forever i am afriad. Forever i am chained, cursed to this wretched body, reflecting you.

YOU.

I hate you. I loathe you.

....

What a cruel existance to be born, you and I.

I hope when i choke you death, you'll burn me alive.

[yeepof]

Local PHD student at wizard school HARRASSED!! FOR SHAME!!

[greykolla-art]

My blog has become infested with angst goblins, and they must be fed with some hypothetical scenarios!🙏💚

[chloesimaginationthings]

Everyone loves FNAF music man.. even Michael

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[firstfullmoon]

Jackie Sabbagh, “Having a Great Time Being Transgender in America Lately”

[batcavescolony]

*Talia visiting Damian*

Talia: Damian, how are you? *glares at Dick*

Damian: I am doing well mother

Dick: *from behind him* *mouthing: why the fuck are you here?*

Talia: oh that's great! I see you have a new pet? *Mouthing back: to see MY son*

Damian: this is Haley, Grayson's dog, she's staying with me while he goes on a mission.

Dick: *flipping Talia off where Damian can't see* yep, he's so good with animals

Talia: I'm aware *throws a knife at him*

Dick: *throws it back*

[chimaeraonwards]

John Cusack, the voice actor for Dimitri in Anatasia (1997), shared his statement on Palestine 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸 🇵🇸

P.S. He has been a Palestinian supporter for years

[jerich0two]

Surprise! It's not Hazbin Hotel, shock horror... but happy pride month! I like this Mordecai headcanon (edit: I've since been told that it's canon!)

[musubiki]

my favorite fields of mistria boys 🥰

[sasswonfp]

CHICAGOAN HATSUNE MIKU. Specifically the winter version <3. (alt text provided! :3)

[burquillos]

Day 15: The embers are fading but something else remains

[demaparbat-hp]

He truly did.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Happy 1 year anniversary to FNAF ruin!!

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.