Jun 18
Just remembered I had a Tumblr so here’s some art of Dys from I Was A Teenage Exocolonist
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Just remembered I had a Tumblr so here’s some art of Dys from I Was A Teenage Exocolonist
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Sometimes i think my chronic depression isnt affecting me that much. Then i notice i spent more hours of my day being too tired/scared/hopeless to do anything than doing anything else, for past several days.
dys in the shared friend group sketchbook !! also chiikawa cuz i think he'd like them
UNTETHERED
Inspired by a dream that took me on a flight through our Solar System – leaving me entirely unimpressed by its beauty.
when you’ve been depressed for so long that non-depressed people feel like a different species. like, some people just exist without constantly thinking about dying? they can actually maintain hobbies and relationships? they’re not too exhausted to function? they don’t spend half their day dissociating? they actually enjoy being alive? that’s crazy…
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
-shyly offers both Horror’s the dinner i made (chicken breasts, sautee’ed veg an’ mashed potatoes)-
hi, you’re both very cute an’ i was wonderin’ if either of you would like a hug?
an’ what your thoughts on polyamory are, but neither of u have to answer that akdkskd
✨️Dysthymia Horror Au✨️
YOU HAVE FOOD!?
I would take a hug ....
(When this Horror opens his mouth, I feel like he would have fucked up teeth like Papyrus đź‘Ť)
Still, I find, once in a while, the depression must be addressed. The abyss demands eye contact. Denial of this fact only means my energy is sapped. Tired, then, my face goes blank. I feel every muscle in it weighted, so that moving even one results in the sensation of a grimace. I suppose people can see or sense this.
Naturally, the urge to hide, then, is my first instinct. All this living feels like an act, and I want to leave the stage. Close the curtains. I want to leave all this negativity to the dark. Yet this also means I have to step into the dark myself.
Note, this is not sadness, pessimism, misanthropy, melancholy, or any "caused," interpreted, or intellectualized emotional state. This is depression. The soul turning to and into the void itself. Therein, naked, vulnerable, lightless. It is a great mouthless famine. A bodiless exhaustion. It is so tempting to sleep and hide, but I move on. Accepting the act. And the acting world. I must. Because I cannot give in to the extremism of this singular facet of me.
I no longer fight the abyss, but let it be. It is strange, but despite all this ache; all this clawing at my sternum to be acknowledged; all this tiring struggling... I feel the void tiring out in existence itself now. As if my soul craved the taste of its totality, and now, once more familiar, returns bored with its darkness yet again.
I guess all facets of self must live. All facets of self must be acknowledged. Incongruence is the only act that can truly do damage. Hence, every once in a while I must undergo this being stripped to the core. Although I do not know why for sure.
All I know is, when it surfaces I cannot fight this darkness for too long. I cannot deny it. It must exist. And, yes, I call this depression; this soulvoid, 'darkness'. But I must add, to those who think darkness is evil: you know nothing of the absence of light.
Nataana Nchoko from the Post Traumatic Manifesto canonically has PTSD, PDD and ADHD!
requested by: @princeoflife123 !