compelled yesterday to make a zine about a lifetime of being a contrarian little shit sketched left-handed and inked right (ow)

Watching star trek next gen, everytime Data comes on screen:

"Excellent, perfect. no notes. 5⭐️ episode."

Not enough people are talking about Against The Kitchen Floor by Will Wood and i am here gnawing at my cage every time i hear that one fucking line and can’t SHARE IT WITH ANYBODY

Gender of the day: Whatever the FUCK Abed Nadir has going on

it's always felt like the whole world is keeping secrets from me.

my eyes and lips are far too sensitive for this makeup business

When I say “I’m hanging out with the girlies,” I’m talking about the demons in my head

Whoever decided that handshakes were the “polite” way of greeting/agreeing was a fucking idiot and if I have to touch one more person I am going to start kneecapping people left and right

I had to realize today, that while I hate pain, I can take it way better than discomfort. Like if it hurts that's bad, but if it just itches, or is just a slight discomfort than I want to off myself.

on being 19 and suffering from incessant longing

you are 19. it is 10:47pm on a saturday night, and you are filled with longing for what your life will be one day. you dream about freedom from needing to work or be in school or make money or do anything much at all. even though you know that needing is more in your mind than it is anywhere else. you have dreams. you think about standing on top of a big hill during a heavy rain. you dance and dance to your favorite band alone, though it's unclear where their music is coming from. you picture yourself dancing for so long that time eventually leaves and goes home and all that is is you and the hill and the rain and the music. on that hill you understand your body and her language and she doesn't need to tell you how to dance or what to do with your arms or your legs or anything because she can move them on her own. everyone on the bottom of the hill is watching and laughing and taking pictures and you decide they are celebrating. you decide they understand, and they want to dance. soon enough everyone is on that hill, and they are all dancing. in another dream, you are in your favorite tv show and you are just like them. you are confused and lost but they are too. nobody who has ever tried to hurt you is real to them, so they don't understand why you cry. you know every room of their apartment and you move in and act like it is home and they know that you are home. you are home there. you don't wake up from these dreams. you find the hill in your car and your best friends bedroom floor and alone, somewhere. you find the apartment in corners of bookstores and foreign bathroom stalls. you remember these dreams better than you remember high school or anything before it. you write about these dreams, and you search endlessly for your hill and your apartment. you remember these dreams. 

do u have another blog where u post about other interests? I feel like I would enjoy seeing your takes on other things you have fun thoughts and I want more of them

thank you anon I would love to give you a positive answer here 😔 although between work and IRL responsibility, this alias is the one I use the most for personal &/or indulgent stuff! (as in, 99% of my posting is now happening here, you're not missing much At All)

I have gone by a lot of other names in the past, but I prefer to separate my fan interests into dedicated channels for privacy reasons and to have more comfortable interactions with people not encumbered by stuff like the web panopticon or follower counts :') hope you understand!

meri has a taylor swift phase but only because she has a vague understanding that listening to taylor swift is something Normal Girls do and she wishes dearly that she could be a Normal Girl. she asks iris about it and iris goes you think what now

every time i open my mouth its like. oh yeah right. the mortifying ideal of language. where every word has an individual meaning and every word has unique connotations. where it is just an unending responsibility to get others to perceive the imperceivable smorgasbord of chemicals in this mind of mine. and then i say a single good joke and i’m like actually this is great i should never shut up. 

idk why but it bothers me that they switched the official spelling from "2-D" to "2D"

spending multiple days in a row glued to my computer working on a compilation is all fun and games until i detach from reality and my eyes start bleeding

Idk if it's my OCD or neurodivergency or what, but there's something so incredibly satisfying about collecting comic books.

I get to buy cool things with my blorbos in them. in ORDER. on a SCHEDULE. (and if the comics aren't a current run, I get to FIND THEM. and put them in the RIGHT SPOTS.)

and-- get this-- the things are NUMBERED.

so then I get to put them in NUMERICAL ORDER. and then in ALPHABETICAL ORDER by TITLE. and then if they have the same title I sort by ALPHABETICAL ORDER by AUTHOR NAME. and then I get to put them in BOXES and add DIVIDERS with LABELS.

and then a month later I get ANOTHER COOL NUMBERED THING with my blorbos in them that comes RIGHT AFTER the LAST COOL NUMBERED THING--