creepy and kooky

my knight you have to live you have to get up you have to put your hand over your wound and hold it there. you have to keep walking and walking and walking because you cannot lay down yet, it’s not time. wipe the blood off your breastplate and look up into the sun. lean on your sword if you need to. lift one foot after another. get up. get up. this would be a pitiful grave.

september was practice… in october I’m getting my shit together

in november I'm getting my shit together

in december I’m getting my shit together

Every yarn person has some tedious ass part of the process they actually don't mind doing & I think this is evidence that we're meant to be more communal as a species. So that one freak who likes weaving the ends can do it for you

Fiber arts in general are just various tedious ass processes so this makes sense. For the kind of people who like doing this. Personally I don't hate untangling yarn I kind of accept my fate and have it be a little puzzle for me

I have a lot of thoughts about how there used to be a bunch of professions that would entail the same repetitive task being mastered and replicated highly efficiently by people who thrived in that kind of stable work environment, and how specifically the jobs that those people could apply themselves to very effectively are the specific jobs lost to automation, are therefore no longer profitable to do as a trade, are reduced to hobbies, and how this renders the group of people suited to doing specifically those jobs difficult to employ.

hey guys does anyone else feel like ‘Suddenly it's December and you're not 17 anymore. And you haven't been 17 for a very long time, but sometimes you need to remind yourself.’ or is it just me?

ocd stands for “oh CMON dude” which is what you say to your brain when you catch it spinning a complex web of the stupidest shit imaginable that it has never the less managed to completely entrap you within

if we ignore all the stuff that's gone wrong ive kind of had nothing but wins

Duuude don't question my version of events I'm such a reliable narrator. I'm literally the protagonist and the main character. You can literally read some of my internal thoughts, that clearly means you have complete access to an objective view of my thoughts and feelings and a correct impression of my characterization and the events unfolding around me. I'm not omitting any information from the audience. Nevermind that timeskip just now

these hips don't lie but the truths they tell are strange and disquieting

i’m a soft girl. i light a candle, play an old song, and suddenly the whole room feels like a memory. i sit in the quiet and let it hold me.

what they don’t tell you about winter is that you go through the 5 stages of grief every morning when it’s time to leave your fluffy blankets