Haunting the Narrative

one of the best parts of making up increasingly wild and specific aus with a friend is sending them posts like "this is sooo blorbo in torture chamber au number 15" and they reply back like "YESSS btw have i told you about my latest idea for how to torture them even more" and you get to enjoy a little snack and kick your feet with glee

(voice of a person spiralling) its embarrassing but i still havent figured out if its ok for me to be alive

‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves A stately pleasure-dome decreed. And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

they fuck you up your mum and dad two vast and trunkless legs of stone i do not like it, sam i am as small as a world and as large as alone

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Westron wynde, when wilt thou blow? Tie up the knocker, say I’m sick, I’m dead. I learn by going where I have to go.

Normal groceries like milk or bread or whatever running out is whatever. Just anotha day. But when stuff like salt or cooking oil or rice runs out it feels like You’re supposed to be here for me and you’re leaving. You’re just like everyone else

“word hashtag my word #myword” has done irreversible damage to my vocabulary

there's something so deeply dystopian to me how tech companies don't understand that a forced convenience is not a convenience at all. i'm sure autocorrect is helpful for many, but a function that forcibly changes my actual written words and punctuation is taking away my language. photo filters can be nice but i need to choose using them myself or else i have lost the ability to take the picture i want. i don't want a machine to draw or write for me. taking away the option for me to do things manually feels like violence!!!! all this talk of endless opportunity, why are you RESTRICTING me

disgustedly throws youtube autodubbing onto the pyre pile

Dick’s early years as Robin are just. You are ten years old. Tomorrow you have a math test. Last night you saved ten lives. You could not save the two that mattered most. Neither could he, which is why you are here. A year ago you spent your days in a trailer and your nights beneath the big top, and you were never more than 10 feet away from someone who loved you. Now you are adrift in a mansion full of ghosts. You want to go home. You climb up to the highest attic and scream as loud as you can just to see if anyone will hear you. For the crime of losing your parents, they put you in a cell. At night you leap from skyscrapers and remember how to fly. You go to bed and watch them fall. Sometimes you wake up and you are so full of anger you don’t know how you can survive it. You are trying to survive it. You want to kill a man. You rescue a baby from a burning building and his mother calls you an angel. You eat an ice cream cone on top of a gargoyle. You do not want another father. You need a friend. There is a secret only four people in the whole world know. You are one of them.