a defiant potato

i love that star wars comic where padmé's surviving handmaidens hold a last stand against vader but honestly if i were them i would have dedicated the rest of my life to the most comprehensive and inescapable fake haunting in the history of the galaxy. man should not be allowed two successive heartbeats without seeing his dead wife's face gazing soulfully at him across the room and slipping away before anyone sees. literally what else is the point of being a highly trained operative capable of perfectly imitating your best friend if not to torment her husband for decades after she's gone.

Stay weird. Your weird is someone's perfect.

Took me years to understand that boredom is not the enemy of writing. It is the raw material. Every good idea i have ever had arrived during a walk with no podcast, a train with no phone, a shower where i just stood there. The moment i fill every silence with content i stop generating anything of my own. I am just processing other people's thoughts instead of having mine. The empty space is where the work comes from. Protecting the empty space is the actual job.

i know the way people talk about their pets now is probably how we’ve been doing it for all of history. a cat owner in ancient rome saw their cat lounging on the dining pillows and commented “he thinks himself to be the senator claudius 🤣”

having physical anxiety even when you're actually having a good mental health day is so fucking stupid. mentally i'm like "i'm so grateful for my life and the beauty of this incredible world." however i drank about .002 too many dropulets of coffee so my body is currently home to 23 species of ants as well as 56 different adverbs. like sure i'm out here doing my little gay nature walk and my journaling and my grounding techniques and yet the entire time my skin has been attempting to become a rocketship and it has decided it must do this via stomach-based forbidden torture techniques

life is so beautiful when you no longer see ads