TRAPPED IN A PRISON OF EMOTIONS

it’s actually ridiculous to me how much people on this web site have uwufied goncharov, like just because of the homoeroticism inherent in the text people act like this film which is from nineteen fucking seventy three is going to fit neatly into a modern day tenderqueer aesthetic and write their silly little coffeeshop au fanfic, literally hannibal fandom all over again. fucking get a grip. goncharov and andrey (spoilers) literally kill each other, did we even watch the same film? they are bad people and they do horrible things, AND they suck and fuck each other. if you can’t hold all these things as true in your mind at the same time kindly go back to steven universe.

i never dream any more except last night i did. it was night time and i was at the supermarket, loading bags from the trolley to the car. i get a phone call. it's nancy pelosi. she asked me what my demands were. i wasn't expecting this conversation so i didn't know what to say. after a couple of seconds i settled on "cancel all the student debt or fuck off". she didn't answer. if it happens i deserve credit for my advocacy.

what if i told you that - from a certain vantage point - the distinction between skating and dying is negligible

ok.... so, ok, what you’re saying is this isn’t, like, a place of honor? ok. weird. cause like, i completely could’ve sworn that there were like, highly esteemed deeds commemorated here or like... like, something valued, y’know? like, that was my thought process, but it sounds like what you’re saying is that actually, what’s here is dangerous and repulsive? that’s like... wild. totally. so would it be cool if i still went in, or......?

dirt + thunder = ???

i was trying to have a go at one of my housemates for leaving a light on but i started to say were you born in a barn but halfway through i remembered that that’s for doors so i said were you born in a... light... house and was like ah shit i fucked that one, but then i remembered, lighthouses: do exist

dint this website used to be a different colour

yous lot are really and truly out here spending your last day on this webbed site posting fingers in his ass sadstuck

fuck if i remember what any of this was even for. i'm squinting hard trying to recall why i ever came here in the first place, why i stayed, and what the thing was that i wanted that would compel me to do those things. i don't know who i was back then and i don't really understand who i am now either. at all points, understanding eludes me. i scratch my head. nothing has ended and nothing new has begun. and now all that remains is post's.