losing at autism

i love olruggio witchhat so much. he’s a sun-coded black cat. he’s a lethally chronic procrastinator. he’s a girl dad. he lies to the police. his magic is warm. his kids bully him and they’re right. he’s in a decade-long magically induced situationship, but he doesn’t know it’s cursed and he’s in it for love of the game. he’s lowkey a celebrity but chooses to live in a cottage on the countryside with said situationship and their four children. he sleeps on the couch. he was a crazy child. he’s a bit of a picky eater. he has chronic anemia and is two minutes away from passing out at all times. he hates hurting things so much that he struggles to kill a disgusting giant leech. he’s a burnt out gifted kid. he is begrudgingly excellent at one of his jobs and on-purposely atrocious at the other one. he has a baby face and is nearly unrecognizable without his beard. he carries an enormous, inexplicable guilt. he’s the sky’s kindest, most radiant star. he’s the perfect man

if i do something wrong they kill me

sometimes i have strong opinions but they're also so inane that halfway through writing a post i'll be like "yeah, this is Absolutely not worth the energy it's taking" and delete everything. but then the opinion is still in my head. and i still want to share it. so within five minutes i go "you know, i bet i can phrase it more succinctly this time" and anyway. you all see where this is going. sometimes i do this four times in a row before i give up on the specific inane opinion and instead write a vague post about the concept of opinions as if that'll satisfy the urge to post the entirety of my inner monologue online. may or may not be relevant to what you're reading right now. and now all our lives have been enriched. you're welcome

sex isnt real. romance isnt real. apple juice is real and a refreshing treat.

Dump your boyfriend and master the art of sudoku instead

does the body ALWAYS have to keep the score? maybe we could just have a friendly game this time. maybe we can just have fun without putting numbers on it

Unoriginal sin. Derivative sin

I think one of the gentlest things in the world is when a friend just gets your weird little brain. like you say half a sentence and they finish it. you reference something incredibly niche from seven years ago and they’re already nodding. they understand your strange vocabulary for emotions that don’t have real words yet. it’s being seen and known and still loved. maybe especially because you’re known. god. what a gift.

please