There’s an emotion only unlocked when you live in a house with multiple stories. I call it “the stair emotion” and it’s when you realize the object you need is on the other side of yet another trip up and down those goddamn stairs. It’s the closest I get to transcending the desire for material goods. Maybe I don’t need that notebook. Maybe I don’t need anything.

being asked what i want for my birthday and suddenly I'm a minimalist who has never had a material want in my whole life

if you have to rely on specific scripts or turns of phrase to socialise that's totally fine, but you must NOT reveal them to your friends while slightly drunk. it's like showing how the magic trick works, you can't do it in front of them afterwards

part of being an adult is figuring out what eveyone else's definition of "going crazy" is. to you it is not sleeping for 60 hours, writing 80k words in one sitting and expiriencing enough anxiety to kill a horse. to beth from accounting its buying a ticket to Columbus, Ohio. and to your friend its consuming so much ketamine you lose all of your posessions and wake up with five broken bones in a ditch somewhere and then proceeding to do it again the next day. to your other friend its writing a letter to their favourite actress about how much they appreciate her work. to your neighbour its laughing loudly in a grocery store whilst in pajamas. maya from uni hears the voice of her dead father making jokes with no punchlines and she considers that to be quite normal - to her going crazy would be hearing her husband instead. your downstairs neighbour will take night walks naked sometimes and claim there is nothing weird about him. there are literally no rules to life and all meaning is in the eye of the beholder.

i do think we need to detach hygiene from value as a person. as someone who has dealt with not being able to shower or brush my teeth due to depression and executive dysfunction, it usually is not a choice. sometimes there are situations in which you CANNOT care for yourself properly and that shouldn’t mean you can now be stripped of your worth. physically disabled people who have trouble with hygiene i love you, mentally ill people who have trouble with hygiene i love you, neurodivergent people who struggle with hygiene i love you, people without access to adequate hygiene products i love you. it’s going to be ok

they should invent activities for sleepy people with no energy

You can make a movie with where the only white character is a man named Ray Cism whose one line of his 16 seconds of screen time is “I seriously hate women and minorities.” and you’ll find fifty bajillion reader x Ray Cism fanfics and renaissance style drawings of him with a halo of golden light

if i dont respond to a message from you i can basically guarantee its not because i dislike you. im just getting attacked by imps and shit all the time genuinely.

*while sewing*: you are a fabric. you can stay a fabric. you do not yearn to return to being string.

*while spinning*: you are a thread. you can stay a thread. you do not yarn to return to being fluff.

*while embroidering*: you are a thread on a needle. you can just exist as thread on a needle. you do knot yearn to become a tangle.

*while turning wood* you are timber on a lathe. You can stay as timber on a lathe. You do not yearn to become a live hand grenade.