#mental ramblings

[weeandfrank]

Dear Frank,

I still sometimes write you letters here even though I know you no longer have access.

There's so much rattling around in my brain. So much I've wanted to say...to someone.

Life has felt so strange for some time. I have a hard time describing what I mean. I don't feel real. This doesn't feel real. I so often feel as though I'm playing pretend at living. At life. At being an adult. All the while at various times becoming bored of this game, of the rules that I don't really follow because I find them dumb or nonsensical...I lose sight of the point of the game...of how to win...I lose my competitive edge...it seems as though the other players have become distracted or wandered off...as often happens at parties ...the game has lost it's novelty...or sometimes I'm the one that's wandered off...

I was inspired to write back here by a book I recently read--I've been reading a lot lately...a healthier [relatively speaking] check-out coping mechanism for this existential depression as I'm momentarily terming it, than other alternatives. The book, I think know you would love, is called Normal People. The main characters, Connell and Marianne, write lengthy emails to each other as a means of staying in touch through long periods of physical distance. The dynamic between them is different--they are in love and you and I are siblings...but they understand one another better than anyone...I'm not going to attempt to give a synopsis as I'm notorious for butchering them; you'll just have to trust my judgement and look it up for yourself.

This book has elicited in me...longing. Heart ache. It's re-opened this yearning to be seen and to be known and to be the main character in my own tragic romance. I long to feel passion and to have my heart ache for someone. I long to feel. I've been in this strange, liminal space of...existing. I've strangely lost my sense of how to socially maneuver, how to flirt and, at times it seems, how to even hold a basic conversation; especially if my mind is set on existing publicly in my own space. Just yesterday I was at the diner down the street from my place...I ordered my food and took my table number scanning the tables for a seat. I awkwardly made eye contact with these two guys, obviously not from here...handsome...and tucked into a table next to them. Several more times we made eye contact and I shyly smiled but my mind went blank...one of them smiled and complimented my leg warmers as they left...I looked back at the anatomy notes I'd nerdily brought in with me to study while I ate and contemplated how I'd lost my mojo. Not that I ever had any mojo...and thus soared back down that mental spiral of my deficits and how many times in my life I've shut myself off to letting people in.

I tipsily allowed emotions to wash over me this evening. Recollecting that feeling that I used to have that "no one really knows me." The realization that I've sunk back into this self-protective space washed over me. Why would I continue to share parts of me that I find significant, vulnerable, valuable to have them disregarded and not valued...each time that happened perhaps I shut myself off a little bit more from exposing these parts of me...

And then I remember that I'm likely creating a dramatized story of these occurrences in my life because I feel insignificant and lacking in...gumption for life...

A friend asked my recently how things were going. I responded:

"I'm pretty good. I'm in the thick of school which...I don't think I ever fully wrapped my mind around the intensity this would be. It's been great. Life-altering. I'm dealing with a strained thumb which is just part of it I think. I need to find alternative ways to do things that doesn't hurt my body ... Turns out I have hyper-mobility in my joints. Don't know how I've gone 36+years of my life not Knowing that but alas, now I know."

It felt true. But...came lightyears short of answering the question of "how are things?" How can I answer this when, the truth is, I don't know. I couldn't answer with "nothing feels real" or "I'm just waiting for civilization to unravel" (as that's the direction we seem to be heading)...or "they're fine, just fucking fine."

It's been a long time since I've had a lengthy conversation with someone where I felt utterly unrestrained and not self-conscious in the sense that not only is it ok to share about my experience, it's desired and appreciated. And vice versa, I was eager to hear about the other person. Or that I felt a connection with a kindred spirit.

It at least feels nice to get some thoughts out. Even if they go un-witnessed. Even all this doesn't come close to capturing what I'm feeling, experiencing, the depth of longing. But, then again, I'm just remembering that an intention I had for this 36th year of my life was to embrace the ordinary, the mundane experience. Perhaps that's what's being called for here. Sitting with the strangeness that is existence and embracing the ordinary.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

i think everyone should program at least once just so you realise just how fucking stupid computers are. because theyre so fucking stupid. a computer wants to be told what to do and exactly that and if you make one typo or forget one detail it starts crying uncontrollably

[hoshizoralone]

reflection

[littlefankingdom]

How fandom portrays Tim's first months as Robin:

Tim: Batman, it's time for your anti-depressants.

Bruce: *grumbles*

Tim: Speak louder.

Bruce: Go away Jason.

Tim: It's Tim, actually.

Bruce: GO AWAY.

How it actually was in the Batman comics:

Tim: How did my report card got on your fridge?

Bruce: I took a look at your grades, and they were great, why? Except for chemistry. Maybe you should not go out as Robin to focus on school.

Tim: Not happening. I'm not falling for that.

Bruce: Well, if you are really going to do this, we should add bubble wrap to the suit.

Tim: I'm not made of glass.

Bruce: Are you sure about that? By the way, do you eat enough? ALFRED, can you cook something for Tim? He needs some food.

Tim: I'm fine Bruce!

Bruce: Are you sure? Do you want a hug? If you want a hug, you can ask. I can have Alfred make some hot chocolate.

Tim: You realize I have parents, rights?

Bruce: I don't see them in this room.

[which-star]

I love the implication that all of huntr/x's songs are about taking down demons like you tune into korea's top girl group yeah they're talking about hunting people for sport again, yeah it's trending on melon and just won inkigayo, they only kill people in their mvs. i wonder what the group with a hunters concept will do next! will it be a song about first love?

[electrikorg]

always have many thoughts about pre-gorillaz stuart, the most average british lad there is. (2D with eyes jumpscare)

[ventique18]

Chat is this true

[tommiemommy]

INTELLIGENCE IS SEXY.

[reinanova]

people LOVE using the excuse of “just bcuz the writer said so doesn’t mean it’s canon” and that the line “i’m not a lesbian, i’m not anything” doesn’t actually make yelena aroace

okay. so by that logic, deadpool isn’t canonically pansexual (even tho the writers confirmed it)

and by that logic, loki isn’t canonically bisexual since “a bit of both” isn’t actually a direct confirmation of his bisexuality

if you’re telling me that yelena needs to say the words “i’m aromantic asexual” in order for her aroace identity to be canon, then that same logic better apply to other queer characters, otherwise you’re being a hypocritical aphobic asshole

if you can’t accept a queer characters canon identity based on their actions or words unless they literally say their sexuality/romantic identity out loud, you’re losing so much representation (especially of the casual queer kind) and character diversity

[goodluckdetective]

Look, this is what moral OCD is like for me:

I walk past a piece of paper. I don’t pick it up because I had a long day at work and it’s very cold outside. This then becomes my internal monologue:

I didn’t pick up that piece of paper, I should have. Don’t I care about the environment? It’s not my trash, I shouldn’t have to pick it up. But also that’s how these things happen right? We place the blame on others as our environment degrades. It was just a piece of paper, it’s not like it can do that much damage. But also how do I know: I’m not an environmental expert. Maybe stray paper scraps are killing the frogs. You’re literally killing the frogs. You should look up how many frogs die a year so you know how shitty you are-No stop it.

I care about the environment, and I recycle and I joined green activism movements but is that enough? I could be doing more. I should be doing more. I should donate my entire check to charity. But isn’t it self serving to think that my one check could help that much? Do I really think I’m that important, how self entitled and-no stop it, reset! You are obsessing and if you fall for it, you will not eat dinner. Let it go.

Okay it’s just a piece of paper. It’s okay you skipped it this once: it could have had something dangerous on it. Yeah that makes sense. But also, that means I’m putting my own safety over trying to help the environment, which is very selfish of me. I’m just one shitty person: god how could I be so self absorbed. I should have picked up the piece of paper. I’m so selfish, and shitty and-no, no, stop it! This is not helpful. It’s fine.

It’s been a long day and I’m cold, that’s not a crime- no that’s being selfish again, you’re making excuses. You’re just a lazy piece of shit who doesn’t care about others, and selfish and God the fact you’re thinking this much about one piece of paper shows how selfish you are, you care more about if you’re a good person than anything else, you’re a piece of shit, you’re a piece of shit, YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT.

I get home and open up Tumblr. The first post I see says “if you don’t reblog this post about the environment you’re as complicit as an oil billionaire.” I close my computer and resign myself to looking up the state frog populations until I go to bed.

I don’t eat dinner.

The amount of frogs that die a year is somewhere from 200 million to over 1 billion.

[asexual-amanita]

Friendly reminder that your mental illness acceptance is not true acceptance if it ends when someone has

- Narcissistic personality disorder

- Factitious disorder

- Body integrity identity disorder

-Substance abuse disorder

-Antisocial personality disorder

-Schizospec disorders

You can’t pick and choose which mentally ill people are worthy of your acceptance and support. That’s just ableist.

[honestlydarkprincess]

having chronic mental issues is wild like yes i’m in crisis yes this is just another tuesday

[philsmeatylegss]

If I were Dan and Phil I would never hard launch because it’s so embarrassing that we were right. Like what do you mean you were so in love a bunch of thirteen year old’s clocked it? I would never give that satisfaction.

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[shisasan]

Sorry to interrupt your scrolling, but may you always walk in rooms that feel like home and meet souls that speak your language. 🜍 ⟡ ⟢

[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.