I Realised The Other Day That I Have Yet To Find A Pair Of Shoes That I Genuinely Find Cute. I Have Seen

Music is powerful because it hurts. It actually, very physically hurts. It feels like a thick balloon is inflating behind your chest and it's spreading to your stomach and arms and fingers and you want to curl into yourself as if that will stop it from growing but it continues on. The nostalgia will only ever be nostalgia. The weekly visits with a friend are now barely even a text every few months. The fandom you dedicated your life to is barely even a passing thought anymore. The ideas that ran through your head now gather dust as a forgotten word document. Life is better, sure, but life used to have them. Why couldn't life be better and still keep them?

This would have never happened if you hadn’t listened to that music. But oh how beautiful those memories are, and there's a smile on your face despite the balloon threatening to pop if you listen a moment longer.

My brother just posted on his socials that he asked our parents if they were happy with their lives and that they said yes, which is crazy because every time I'm the one asking they always deflate and say no, that they wished it had been different, that they're tired but they're too old to try and change anything so they're just going to wait it out until death. So either they're lying to one of us, or a secret second thing I can’t conceive of.

Me: (does something)

Someone: (jokingly) What’s wrong with you?

Me, unable to understand the odd and bitter feeling I suddenly have: (jokingly) Everything.

Me, later that night, out loud, to myself: I’m autistic and was raised to hate myself for it, thanks for asking.

My OL2 oc, who can speak fine around girls but not around boys in Step 1, upon meeting this new redhead who can speak fine around boys but not around girls, also in Step 1: Ah, a kindred spirit.

Kiara and Kovu from Lion King 2 were peak romance. They made each other want to be better and they did. 10/10 show-stopping incredible. "In a perfect world, one we've never known, we would never need to face the world alone. They can have the world; we'll create our own" like okay?????? Coming out here slamming me in the face with such poetry????

I got bored of a story I was writing so I started playing around with the roles and it made me realise that the characters had never respected the guy that was originally their leader. They liked him, but he was a child to them. And like I had never realised they thought of him that way but everything I wrote them into always led to that conclusion. It made me kind of sad, but I’m the one who did it, so now I can go back and change his character so they respect him more.

I Used to Write

I used to write. I used to have paper and pens and pencils and crayons and markers stuffing my purse to bursting, and I used to USE them. My purse would be full of character ideas and dialogue and descriptions of lights and sounds and emotion. There were words in everything I did, my mind narrating my every action as if I were in a parallel fantasy world.

And now my purse is full of pens that don’t work, pencils with no lead, and half-filled papers with faded words that will never know their fate. My mind only speaks my fears. I feel nothing but regret and longing for a time where I could feel more. I used to write.

I have successfully conditioned myself to think of MDZS whenever I hear “When You Come Home” by Mree.

I want to go to sleep today. Why? Because I want to dream.

Me, very much aromantic: It would be awesome to be one of the hunters of Artemis.

Coworker: But then you’d never be able to get married and have kids!

Me:

Coworker:

Me: IT WOULD BE AWESOME TO BE—