SnegLectual

I'm Danny, he/him/it/its

This is my writing/art blog! It will mostly be poetry and cool reblogs, but occasionally you will see sketches/illustrations and music covers. (hopefully)

I love all sorts of art, I consider everything art. I have so many ideas, but I don't have ENERGY. So it's usually writing or low effort stuff.

I make political, emotional, sometimes sappy poems. I like focusing on psychology, religion/spirituality and philosophy.

Other Blogs:

Dream blog

Main blog

Reblog blog

Last updated [6/9/25]

So far at the ripe age of 19, I've filled up like 7+ journals. (And counting.) And nearly completely, a few sketchbooks. I've saved school papers that I doodled all over too. I've been genuinely writing like this for 10 years. I've been compulsively writing down lists or scribbling since I was like 6 though.

A handful of times I've written until my hand and wrist ACHED. For 4+ hours at a time. I'd get mini blisters on the webbing between my thumb and pointer finger, visibly bruise my writer's callus, and indent it. I ended up learning how to write with my left hand just so I could continue these binges when my right hand/wrist started cramping. I'd set timers for 10 minutes to an hour to force myself to take a break. I'd stretch my wrists every day, sometimes multiple times a day, in hopes I could write more. I also have documents upon documents of pointless compulsive lists on my phone and laptop.

What was I writing about? Everything I considered worthwhile. My life, thoughts and feelings, random lists, compulsive activities. I was scared if I didn't write down everything that crossed my mind, I'd forget and be forgotten. I tend to talk a lot and overshare, so, I'll just put it in the journals instead!

[12:52:] "I drank water."

[16:39:] "I ate something."

[02:23:] 7 pages of rant/ideas/memories/theories

I don't want my journals to just be gone or thrown away, I spend so much time on them. I want them to be read eventually. I want someone(s) to witness me growing up. Like, have someone read my completely unfiltered humanity. I'm a different person there than I am in real life, as everyone is to themselves. I'm still me in both versions. I've started collecting things to stick in them recently as well, some photos, leaves, perfume.

I'm not trying to romanticize this! The binges are unhealthy, and I've chilled out a bit.