Where I come from, we don’t worry about these fruity-tuity California style buds. Okay? I’m from Scranton. What i’m smoking is dirt. So lets get that straight jack. Pure brick. Ass. Okay? America- Americans are wanting to smoke that dirt, okay? You go up to someone and say, hey, I’m gonna give you a big bag of this heady bud, but I’m taking your stash of mids, they’re gonna say C’mon man! get out of here! *audience cheers* that’s right. that’s right. Get the hell out of here! We like stems! We like seeds! Where I come from.

this post is scripture to me like this is a seminal text. to me

there's a post on here that says "part of getting better is complete ego death" and I was like yesss so true!!! but then the post goes on not to describe ego death but to describe, like, pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and stop being lazy. ok so. that's not ego death.

part of getting better is complete ego death. you need to grab by the throat the part of yourself who's holding you back and you need to kill them with your own hands until your sense of self disintegrates and you realize you are nothing at all, and then out of that void you need to build a new and beautiful self until that new self's flaws become apparent and then you need to take them out back and murder them too and start over again. I don't give a fuck about setting timers or working out, do drugs and develop alters and look back on the past as if it were someone else's life and feel a distant sense of disgust.

part of getting better is complete ego death. as the horrors overwhelm you, surrender yourself to the complete loss of self until you are nothing but pure awareness transcending your mortal form, blurring into all of spacetime, and then from the endless darkness you must watch the fragments of your discarded shell of identity begin to make out with each other somewhat sloppy style and maybe these listless identity-fragments are grinding on each other a little bit too and you're just the voyeur who no longer sees yourself in any of this but you're getting kinda flustered.

with fat pussy comes fat responsibility

The fastest way to accomplish The Project is to cease being afraid of The Project. The Project cannot maim you. The Project cannot kill you. The Project is more afraid of you than you are of it. It is okay if The Project turns out differently from how it was in your head, and it is okay if it has flaws. You are capable of engaging with The Project.

Billiejo Rush

Actually, the reason to write that rarepair longfic that no one else is going to read is so you can go back and re-read it yourself when you're sad.

the problem with employment is it gives you money to purchase video games but it takes away your time to play video games. Mao spoke of this

hay menos de 300, este pudu es muy raro. Un poder celestial enorme. hoy es él también con nosotros

the backrooms are simply not as scary conceptually if there is Something In Them

the whole reason why they're so unnerving is BECAUSE there's nothing in them!! because they're unrelentingly liminal and lonely and uncomforting. there shouldn't be a monster guy in there chasing you. you should glimpse other humans (?) from a distance but they walk away before you can close the gap and then they're gone. things should run away from YOU. do u get it

"and there was a MONSTERowooowwohhhh" the monster is isolation and banal beige sameness and uncanny valley architecture. you fool. you rube. you're putting a hat on a hat and the second hat is not only unnecessary but it ruins the first hat!!!!!!! "there's a monster in there" great so now it's just another place for a monster to be. ridiculous

fine I will concede: you CAN actually put something in there while maintaining the vibes, but it should complement the location instead of just being a generic scary guy you could put literally anywhere

t shirt that just says WHATEVER YOU’RE READING INTO MY FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AND BODY LANGUAGE YOU’RE MISINTERPRETING