The Beginning of the End

Me, who’s been using tumblr as my sole source of social media since a crisp autumn day in 1648, hates change, and is terrified of a different social media experience:

the only acceptable jobs for spider-man

broke high schooler

broke college student

freelance photographer

high school teacher

unpaid intern

pizza delivery guy

research assistant for doomed scientific project

guy who stands on street and spins sign for quiznos

being spider-man

Good morning! I’m salty.

I think we, as a general community, need to start taking this little moment more seriously.

This, right here? This is asking for consent. It’s a legal necessity, yes, but it is also you, the reader, actively consenting to see adult content; and in doing so, saying that you are of an age to see it, and that you’re emotionally capable of handling it.

You find the content you find behind this warning disgusting, horrifying, upsetting, triggering? You consented. You said you could handle it, and you were able to back out at any time. You take responsibility for yourself when you click through this, and so long as the creator used warnings and tags correctly, you bear full responsibility for its impact on you.

“Children are going to lie about their age” is probably true, but that’s the problem of them and the people who are responsible for them, not the people that they lie to.

He seems like someone you’ve met before but when you go to think about who the memory flees you and everything is white noise.

 Is he looking at you, or is he looking beyond you? Are you even you anymore?

He gives off an aura of the feeling when you cant tell if you’re wide awake or dead tired.

He’s like the mental fog that fills your head past 4AM when you can’t figure out if that flicker at the corner of your eyes was your imagination or not. 

Part of you is unsure if you want it to be your imagination.

He makes people feel uneasy and comfortable at the same time, like being trapped a stuffy summer room but not opening the window because of the mosquitoes buzzing nearby.

Even in complete actions he seems like a sentence cut off too soon, words echoing in the air, but you hesitate to ask to finish the sentence. 

You aren’t quite sure you want it to be finished.

Anti is dreadful anticipation, uncomfortable satisfaction, a border between harmless…