weary as the day is long

The reason you can't be the next J R R Tolkien isn't because you don't have the talent, but because you're not the right kind of unwell. Tolkien wasn't bent for fantasy worldbuilding; he was bent for constructed languages, and got into fantasy worldbuilding in order to provide a material context in which to ground the notional evolution of the languages he invented. If you want to be the next Tolkien, you can't start with the worldbuilding; you've gotta find something extremely specific to fixate on, and develop it in such depth that inventing a world to contain it is genuinely the most logical next step.

I hate having an internal monologue. Girl shut the fuck up.

working with kids and one of them says “you know you eat 8 spiders a night on average right?” and another goes “no no no those statistics are actually skewed by people who like eat spiders recreationally for fun and stuff” and my head snapped up like a fucking sleeper agent

And then I reblogged every post I saw. Like a whore.

every day i get a little madder about the ‘dream job’ narrative… all i want is to have a job that benefits society somewhat, doesn’t abuse me, and lets me live a happy life outside of my job lol. jobs should not be (and arguably can’t be) cosmic destinies and identities

it doesn't matter which country we're talking about here, if someone from any country in the world says "oh where i am from there is simply no racism", you not only shouldn't believe them, but you should actually never take them seriously about anything ever again.

Migraine sufferers will be like "it's not like I'm disabled or anything, it's just that if I do any of these normal everyday things other people do all the time, my head explodes. But I'm fine honestly, as long as I avoid doing anything ever and my environment and the weather never changes, then my head explodes a little less"

happy ten years of baby cats very cute

birds are so privileged for being able to sit on top of street lamps and judge people. i wish i was up there

who fucking cares if your cat eats you when you die. i hope so. my baby is petite with a petite stomach that needs to be full every 8 to 10 hours. she probably won’t even like my viscera but let her do what she needs

“your dog wouldn’t eat your corpse” dumb as fuck ngl too emotional & no survival instinct my child has let me down by turning away from my final act of love