the real me is
an alien, nameless, inexplicable concept of a thing
that does not operate on human terms, does not think with human thoughts
the real me is
a blank slate
the me you see is
a stolen face with stolen thoughts
carefully crafted from my favourite parts of humanity
the me you see is
a character to play
i stole every part of me
and built myself out of the gold in everyone else’s pans
i took my favourite traits from others
and i built myself a patchwork personality of stolen gold
i was always a blank slate, so i made myself a glowing golden patchwork god to play as
method acting, so thorough
that i have slowly become the character i play
the blank slate, painted over with the stolen gold
i am a fictional character, and that’s fine with me
i am the patchwork god, made of stolen gold
lol can you tell i have autism
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Linnea, i feel sick rn because of an unrequited love :( why do we have to suffer so much
The Shepherd in Love
The shepherd in love lost his staff
And the sheep scattered all over the slope,
And so much was he lost in thoughts, he didn’t even play the flute.
No one showed up or disappeared.
He never found the staff.
Others cursing him, rounded up the sheep for him.
He at the end had no love at all.
When he rose up from the slopes and from the false truth, he saw everything:
The grand valleys full of the same ever greens
The far off grand mountains, more real than any feeling,
All the reality, with the existing sky, the air, the fields,
Are present.
(And again the air that he lacked for so long, entered fresh into his lungs)
And he felt the air opened again, with much pain,
A freedom
In his chest.
Fernando Pessoa as Alberto Caeiro
10 July 1930
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I'm fine.
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A self portrait of sorts..
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Check out the Shop!
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Taking art trades and requests! Send to my ask box or send me a message! I'll draw nature scenes, OCs, fan art, or can write you a poem!
I also transcribe songs on the kalimba if you need help with that! And take fandom requests for fic recs, if you're in need of some and I'm familiar with the fandom!
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unavoidable symptoms of girlhood
you remind me of your mother, with your demeaning tone and extra pounds sighing in the plus-size section
how is it encouraging each other’s hunger? does it bring you closer?
—rmm
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"He, Too" by Solmaz Sharif / Immigration Men by Salman Toor
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life sucks and then you die
seems just about right
every step forward, another step back
and always fight or flight
as soon as one crisis ends
another finds you free
to worry and weep and sigh
there's always stress to be
hope for the best, expect the worst
our motto and our creed
I'm just so fucking tired of "worst"
I just want to be freed
from constant sorrow and pain
when will my ship come in?
I'm just so fucking tired
life sucks, you die--the end
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I was never meant to have a side hustle where I do one thing consistently. I was meant to be the type of person you give $60 to and a creative project of any type and i do it within the week
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