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please make sure that wherever youāre at in life, you donāt treat it like a transitory period. donāt waste your college years wishing to already be graduated & have a job. donāt waste your single years wishing for someone to be in love with. if/when those things come, they will come in due time and they will be good. but there is nothing like looking back and feeling empty because you wasted literal years ignoring what you had because you were hoping for something better. while itās important to better yourself and reach for your goals, donāt neglect the present because thatās where you are now and itās your now that determines your future.Ā
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Everything about this damn post is so funny to me. The lighting of the arm from the flash. The posing of the arm like a dramatic death from a novella. The fact the photo somehow got taken still and looks this good. The subreddit name. The fact this guy really is built like crash bandicoot
Like let me sit your lap with your hands on my waist while I talk your ear off about something stupid that I just feel like telling you about. Let me play with your hands. Let me run my nails along your muscles to relax you. Lay your head in my lap while I scratch your head so you can fall asleep. Letās cuddle while we watch tv at night in a dim lounge room with only the soft light of a lamp. Let me brush your hair and play with it. Let me literally just exist in your space.
every so often i remember how awesome the modern interconnected multicultural world is. i grew up getting to hear fairy tales from all over the world. africa, asia, europe, america. everywhere in between. i can have bagels for breakfast, curry for lunch, and ramen for dinner without even leaving the city limits. music and art and philosophy and technology that originated thousands of miles and years apart from eachother have come together and interwoven into something greater than the sum of its parts. its hard not fall into despair when thinking about the horrors but god. god the wonders.
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wish there was an easy and normal way to say āIām not as sane as you probably assume i am, and when you can see it, will you still try to love me?ā
just in case this spreads: i literally mean ānot saneā here. Iām not joking about how goofy i am. I mean i have behaviors and symptoms and histories that most people donāt- and ones that have been considered insane. Will you still love me when i tell you I hear things sometimes? Will you still love me when you know Iāve attempted suicide multiple times? Will you still love me when I obsess over things and break down often and canāt promise you i can always be happy?
Muse! Brian and his wife that he just met a month ago.
He texts Tim with no context like āMaking dinner. Come at 7.ā Which has Tim confused because Brian never cooks and when they hang out itās always at the pub.
Tim knows that Brian basically took the cabin for himself, but it didnāt bother him much because he didnāt use it unless they were planning to fish or something together. He shows up at seven on the dot, and when he walks into the kitchen, his jaw drops.
There is a whole ass woman. In a soft night gown, face glowing with a ring on her finger. You introduce yourself, and he genuinely freezes. Itās not that he doesnāt trust Hoodie, but theyāve been toeing the edge of insanity for years. Had Brian finally snapped? Had he Stockholmed some poor civilian?
Itās clear you live here. Youāre in pajamas and barefoot, playing house with Hoodie of all people. Brian āVulnerability is Weaknessā Thomas. Yet he looks so happy. Comfortable with hugging you from behind, cheerfully talking about how cozy you fit into his life.
He is jarringly content.
And that has Tim unnerved.
Brian barely smiled most days- like really smiled. Seeing his friend laugh so openly with you on his arm was uncanny, and Tim debated whether or not to find a moment to ask if you needed help.
Once again. He trusted Brian- but he also knew that killing people can weigh on your psyche.
Heās sitting at the table mentally going through a list of topics to bring up with Hoodie in private. Break him in gently, you know?
Tim understands it gets hard, lonely- god if he didnāt understand that. Yet this was wrong. They still had morals, and the image of Brian waging psychological warfare on you to get you into this role had his stomach uneasy.
He pulls Hoodie to the side after dinner, nudging him with a tense look. Tim mumbles about how they got together, carefully treading into the territory of āHey, did you kidnap your wife?ā But every time Brian answers, he somehow becomes more lost.
Brian is so enthusiastic as he explains, it throws Tim off. Apparently you broke in. And that was a good thing. And then Brian basically force fed you wine. Which was also a good thing.
And then you got married.
And now you were living with him.
And you wanted this.
By the time Masky leaves, heās still questioning how this happened. Heās worried about Brian and you. Heās sitting in his truck debating the ethics of your marriage.
Youāre evidently unwell and obviously needed support- latching onto Brian for it. Is it not wrong to say that Hoodie shouldāve redirected you? But at the same time, Hoodie wasnāt exactly sound of mind either.
Was it still taking advantage of your mental state if the perpetrator was equally as unstable? Was it bad if you picked the ring on your own volition? Did this still count as kidnapping or was it just a spontaneous marriage?
You seemed happy. Brian seemed happy. So perhaps you did belong together. And about half a pack of smokes later, Timās next question is just as head-aching.
[Image ID: YouTube comment from @/ carolynnabours7530 reading: I am 77 and want to get up and dance too if my back and knees would let me. Oh heck, I think I will anyway. /End ID]
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[image id: Excerpt from an interview with Richard Siken. It reads:
āCuriosity is fundamental. Always has been and always will be. We think art comes from trauma because we're most curious when we're devastated or in danger and we're curious for an answer. You can be desperately curious. It doesn't have to be a mild feeling. Some people say they can't write when they're happy. That's because they write pain out of habit. They just aren't curious about joy. Joy can be just as intense, profound, and even terrifying. Recovery is a side-effect of curiosity. Knowledge is a side-effect of curiosity. The opposite of curiosity is an insularity that leads to self-isolation and a solitary death.ā
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